The Color Blue
by Incredibly Cold
Summary: Jean Kirschtein hated school. He didn't expect anything different this year at a new school, but that all changes when he meets a small, nervous boy named Armin. (AU Jearmin, rated T for dark themes & character death. Triggers are noted at the beginning of chapters they apply to) COMPLETED OFFICIALLY BUT IT'S POSSIBLE THAT I WILL WRITE MORE IF PEOPLE WANT ME TO/ HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE
1. The Strange Boy

Jean Kirschtein hated school. He had never stayed in one place for very long, because his dad was poor and with only the one meager income, it was difficult for them to keep a house for even a single year. Constantly being forced to switch schools had taken a lot of the fun out of the whole experience for him. He tried not to talk to people or really make friends, because by now he knew from experience that it only made leaving harder. Of course, the downside was that isolating himself made him feel left out. Sure, he could deal with it, but it wasn't exactly enjoyable.

Naturally when he walked through the front doors he didn't expect anything different. He would do as he normally did, keep his head down, sit in the back of the rooms when he could. He wouldn't get involved in any clubs, or sports. Any activities at all were out for him. Just keeping to himself and working as hard as he could so that he could get good grades, and maybe even a scholarship. He was going to college no matter what, he knew that much. He would rather die than end up like his dad, so poor that he couldn't keep a house.

He walked to his first class, dragging his feet as he went. His first teacher was Mrs. Clark. Mrs. Clark was a young woman, maybe in her early thirties who taught chemistry. She was very pretty, with medium brown skin, dark hair that fell only about to her shoulders, and beautiful greenish hazel eyes. Chemistry was Jean's worst subject, but he figured if he really worked at it he could get at least a B. He took his customary seat in the back row off toward the right corner. It didn't take long for the rest of the room to fill out, leaving exactly five seats including the one on his left. Well, at least there were five. Right as he bell rang another kid ran in, tripping over their own feet in their haste to find a seat. He felt more than a little annoyed when they chose to sit next to him, for some reason not taking any of the far closer and more convenient spots up front. Whatever, they (he couldn't really tell if they were a boy or a girl) didn't exactly look like they would be a bother. More likely just a mild annoyance and distraction.

"Did I miss anything?" The person next to him asked. The question caught him off guard.

"Wait, what? The bell just rang, of course you didn't miss anything." It came out harsher than he had intended, but he was irritated about having his attempt not to talk to anyone foiled this early in the day.

The blonde bowed their head in embarrassment. "Of course not, I'm sorry."

He almost let out an audible groan. _He had gotten the shy kid?_ Well, it did mean that choosing the back made sense, and at least he probably wouldn't end up having to talk to him much. And besides, in his experience a lot of the shy kids were pretty smart, so he might be able to get some help when he needed it. The thought made him smile, maybe a B wouldn't be so hard to get after all. "Good morning! Did everyone have a good summer?" Mrs. Clark shouted. Jean nearly jumped out of his seat, surprised by how loud she was. There were a few murmurs, but everyone seemed too tired to make any effort to respond. By the time she was done introducing herself Jean had completely tuned out. He had been through plenty of this first day of school stuff to know the rules. Teacher tells more about themselves than anybody cares about and then explains the class rules, blah blah blah, he really didn't need to pay attention until they started doing name games, and even then he only needed to introduce himself, he could ignore everyone else. It wasn't like he planned to be buddies with any of them in the first place.

* * *

Jean didn't even realize that he had dozed off until he felt someone poke his side. He rubbed his eyes, sitting back up slowly, so he wouldn't draw attention. He hoped that the teacher hadn't noticed, but by the looks of things the only one who had was the person next to him, and Jean couldn't help but feel a little grateful for the way they had prodded him just behind the table so it wasn't noticeable. "What did I miss?" He figured it must have been something otherwise they would have let him sleep. He also couldn't help but think that it was basically the exact same question he had been asked before.

"Not much. We're supposed to introduce ourselves to our table partners." They seemed to be avoiding eye contact, keeping their blue eyes focused on a spot just past Jean's ear. "I'll go first. My name is Armin Arlert and I'm a sophomore. I don't play any sports, but that was one of the things she said to mention, so if you do… I don't have any siblings, but I do have a cat named Eren…" They trailed off, seeming not to be able to think of anything they thought was worth sharing. "Oh, and I'm not a girl." At this his face turned beet red and he looked down at his feet. "Sorry, your turn."

_ Oh god, this kid must have some serious social issues. Two apologies in one class period and he hadn't even done anything wrong yet. Was he apologizing for not being a girl or for sharing so much about himself? And why was he blushing so much?_ He decided to start without thinking first, so the awkward silence would be shorter. "Okay, my name is Jean Kirschtein, sophomore also. I'm new this year and I don't play sports. Only child, no pets." He thought about what else might be interesting. "Well science classes aren't my best subjects, but I've kept straight A's in everything else since fourth grade and I plan on getting a scholarship so I can get a good job and be able to afford a house so I won't have to move ever again." He smiled smugly. "Unless I want to move, and then I'll be able to afford a nice house." He felt pretty proud of himself until he looked back to Armin, and he felt his pride shrink.

Armin was well groomed, and his clothes were clearly new, and probably pretty expensive going by the looks of them. He was a rich kid, who probably got the newest iPhone as soon as it came out, and ate a nice home cooked meal every night and got to go shopping for a new pair of sneakers even when he didn't need them. _Why did he have to say all that to him? Now the knew he was poor, and he would look down on him because of it._ He wished that he at least had the decency to stop looking at him with so much pity, he didn't need pity. What he needed was a college degree, and that look wasn't going to help him get one.

As the moments passed he felt himself growing angry. "And I won't get anyone's pity then either." He added icily, his amber eyes narrowing. He almost felt bad when Armin shrunk back, his eyes back to their previous view of the floor. He supposed that he might have been a little harsh, but it wasn't like he had been out of line. The kid looked at him like some kind of injured puppy, and Jean wasn't one to just sit there while his pride was trampled. _Whatever. It's not like we were going to be friends anyway._ Jean said to himself, resting his forehead on his arms, which were folded on the table.

He didn't fall back asleep this time, because the teacher then asked if everyone finished. There were a few grunts and nods, so she continued. "Now we'll go around the class and introduce our partners. I hope all of you were listening!" He felt his stomach drop. _Oh god, now this Armin kid was going to destroy his reputation before he even got one. He would be the poor kid. People would pay attention and notice the way everything he wore was faded. The way his pants were too short, and his shirts were too tight on him. Maybe he would have to move halfway through the semester like last year and not have to deal with it for very long._ It wasn't as if he wanted that, but if it happened he wouldn't be too upset.

First up was Marco Bodt, who played soccer and had a little sister named Katelyn that he was very fond of. Then Reiner Braun, the football player whose stepsister Annie was skilled in karate, a fact everyone seemed to be aware of because she had taken people down more than once because they had touched her without permission. Beside him was Bertholdt Fubar, an only child who was apparently the track star of the school, though his sweaty nervous demeanor wouldn't have suggested it. He stopped listening after they passed Connie, a boy whose last name he didn't catch because he was surprised by the girly first name.

Finally everyone had had been introduced except he and Armin. The other boy stood, speaking out in a voice so soft that he was sure the people up front couldn't hear. "This is Jean Kirschtein, he has no siblings and isn't on any sports teams because he's new this year" Jean didn't bother to correct him. He must not have understood what he meant exactly. Either way, it didn't really matter if they thought he was athletic or not. "He was the wrestling champion at his school last year, but then he got a bad injury, so he might not be able to play anymore." _What?_ The other part may have been a misunderstanding, but this was completely made up. He hadn't said anything remotely similar to that. He looked around the classroom to see that there were a few nods of approval throughout the room, and it dawned on him that Armin wasn't trying to do anything to hurt their first impression of him. He was once again grateful to the smaller boy for making him seem cooler than he really was. Maybe he should make up for being rude earlier by doing the same thing. A guy like him could probably use whatever talking up he could get. Sure, it would be harder since these kids already knew him, but he could think of something.

"That's Armin Arlert, he's an only child too, but he has a cat." His mind raced, trying to think of something cool, which a cat definitely wasn't. "He makes really good salsa." It was the first thing he could think of, and immediately he wanted to slap himself. He glanced around the room and noticed a few strange looks, but he just shrugged and sat back down, cursing his lack of imagination.

Armin looked at him with wide eyes. "I'm not good at making salsa." It was only a whisper, but he sounded so serious that Jean had to hold back a laugh.

"Well I've never been on a wrestling team, and I haven't been injured so badly that I couldn't play sports, so I guess we're even." He raised an eyebrow. "Plus, making salsa is easy enough, if you really feel the need to know how then I can show you."

"Thanks…." There was a brief silence between them. "Why did you say that though?"

"You made me sound cooler than I really was and I wanted to do the same for you." It took a moment to realize how that sounded. "Not that you aren't cool, but you didn't tell me anything cool. Either way, it didn't work. Sorry about that."

Armin's blue eyes crinkle up as he giggled. "That's okay. Maybe I can teach you improv." _Giggling? What the hell, had he not gotten that a guy shouldn't giggle like a little girl? Especially him, he was already girly enough. What was improv again?_ He was pretty sure it had something to do with acting. So Armin was one of those acting kids. He couldn't say that it was hard to believe. He had already said he didn't do sports, and he didn't seem the type to sit around and not do anything. He probably would have guessed orchestra, merely because he was so timid, but acting fit too.

"Alright then, I'll bring the salsa ingredients and show you how to do that. We can kill two birds with one stone." He joked. Armin giggled again, and Jean had to admit it was pretty cute. He liked that face on the other boy, it suited him much better than the painfully uncomfortable look he was wearing before. Then again, almost anything was better than that look. It was so pitiful. He was about to open his mouth to speak again when the bell rang. He must have been asleep longer than he thought, it didn't seem like that had taken nearly long enough. He would have continued anyway, but Armin was already gathering his pencils up and heading out the door.

Instead he got up, pulling out his schedule to see that his next class was world history.

"Hey there. It was Jean, right?" A voice came from beside him. He looked up to see none other than Marco Bodt smiling at him.

"Uhh… Yeah, and you're Marco?"

"Yeah, good job. I was wondering if you needed any help finding your next class. Mine is on the other side of the building, so I pass everything anyway." He was slightly taken aback by the friendly gesture, it wasn't something that people did at many of the schools he had been to, but decided to just go along with it. It didn't hurt to know who was friendly.

"World history with Mr. Appenfeller." He told the other boy.

"Really? That's where I'm going too! That works out perfect." He seemed genuinely happy about it, and Jean couldn't help but like him a little. Usually if someone offered to show him around they were really weird, and even if he didn't know much about this guy, he seemed normal enough. He was just a really friendly person.

* * *

History was boring. During the whole class Jean was slightly irritated by the abnormal height of his teacher who was only two inches short of a full foot taller than his own 5' 8" which he considered pretty tall. It didn't really matter, he was still growing, but no matter what he was sure he would be considerably shorter than this Mr. Appenfeller. This guy didn't even play a name game, so he left not knowing anyone but Marco and a girl he thought might have been called Sasha by the girl who sat beside her.

Math, english, creative writing, and drawing all went by in a blur of names. Annie, Mikasa, Christa, Ymir, Thomas Wagner, whose last name he only bothered to remember because he sat next to another Tom whose last name he didn't even hear, Mina, Hannah, Franz, Samuel, Nack, Millius, and Dazz. Finally it was time for his last class of the day. Acting.

He got to class with no time to spare. Sadly, that meant that there was only one seat left, and he plopped down , looking around to see if there was anyone he knew. There was Christa, Connie, and Marco. Other faces he didn't recognize, and one he couldn't even see because she had her hood up and was facing the other way, giggling with a group of girls who he thought might have been talking about boys. It was as good a guess as any with the way they kept breaking out in squeals and laughter.

"No hoods."

The voice came from the drama teacher, who he was sure hadn't been sitting there behind his desk a minute ago. Well he couldn't have been anywhere else. The only thing behind him was a closet, and he somehow doubted he had been hiding in there. Even if he had, surely he would have made a more obvious entrance. He turned to see that the hooded girl was not in fact a girl at all, but was Armin from his first hour.

"Aw, do we actually have to follow the rules in here this year?" Connie whined, interrupting his train of thought. He couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Maybe Mr. Brown was really strict?

"Of course not. We never have before, just gotta pretend for the first week or so." One of the people he didn't know piped up, kicking off their sneakers and laying down between the desks. Maybe not, that would just be asking for a detention if he were. Unless they were just a troublemaker and didn't care. Marco tossed an empty water bottle and it hit their stomach, bouncing off and landing on the ground with a clatter.

"Which means that you have to keep your shoes on and sit up like the rest of us while we're still in the classroom." He said teasingly.

"Fair enough, but I'm not putting my shoes on." The student made a show of getting up and sitting in the chair, tossing the bottle back at Marco. "And no throwing trash, you barbarian."

Acting kids. They were always fun to be around, as long as you didn't take them too seriously.

"That's enough everyone, I need to take roll if we want to move on to something more fun." That got everyone to shut up really fast, and soon they were all sitting quietly at their desks, leaving Jean with the question of what that could possibly be that they liked so much. He had taken plenty of acting classes before, but each one was different. Some were boring some were fun, some had strict teachers and some had teachers that didn't seem to care what their students did at all. Really the something fun could be anything. Mr. Brown was still looking around the class, not calling names out, but apparently just by knowing who each of them were. Well, almost.

"Jean?" He called. He said it wrong, it was supposed to be similar to John, but instead the teacher said it like the jeans that you would wear. Oh well, it was only a matter of time before someone did it. He was actually surprised that this was the first time.

"Here." He called, raising a hand. He didn't bother correcting him, it wasn't the best thing to do the first time you spoke to someone. He didn't want to give the person in charge of his grades any reason to dislike him. The teacher stood up, clapping his hands together. "Okay, that's all. If everyone would put up their chairs and head to the stage." Within seconds there was the clatter of chairs being put on top of desks, and everyone scrambled to the door at the back of the classroom. Jean followed quietly, not sure where they were going. He had thought this was a closet or something, not an actual door. Once through he was even more confused. The ceiling was high up, and half of the room had a second floor. There was wood and sawdust and paint and all kind of sharp tools, as well as furniture like couches and rocking chairs, scattered around the room with no visible order. It was a workshop of some sort, he knew, but why was it behind the acting room? He tore his attention away from the jumble of stuff, and quickly followed Mina through another door, and found himself in what must have been the backstage area.

Through the curtains he found the most disappointing auditorium he had even laid eyes on. It wasn't even an auditorium. There were bleachers on the other side of the room, currently folded back against the wall. He had passed through the room earlier, as it connected two hallways. It was really more of a commons area than anything else, and he couldn't help but ask the still barefoot student that now sat on top of a podium if there was another auditorium where they performed plays.

"What kind of high-budget school has a real auditorium?" They then began laughing at some kind of inside joke they had just said, and he walked away. Most everyone was off the stage, with a few shutting the doors so that people wouldn't cross through. He followed their lead and hopped offstage, only to stand there, unsure of what to do. He wasn't alone long when A very short girl with brown hair came up to him. She overweight, but very pretty.

"So, you're the new kid, huh? I'm Lexi -"

"STOP BOMBARDING HIM, YOU WHORE!" Came a screech from across the room, and soon she had been knocked over by a rather tall girl with curly black hair. They were both laughing, so he assumed that this wasn't unusual for them, and that Lexi didn't mind being called a whore, or at least not when it was this girl who said it. He wasn't sure what to do, so he just stood there and hoped Mr. Brown would tell them what they were supposed to do soon.

It was like the teacher could read his mind. "Everyone circle up." He called from the center of the room. Jean beat most of the class over, eager to get away from the girls rolling around. Before long everyone was in a circle, Armin at his right and Lexi to his left, a fact that made him a little uncomfortable. "Today we're going to get to know each other. In a class like acting you need to feel comfortable with your classmates and not let embarrassment get in the way. Everyone think of one embarrassing thing about themselves that you don't usually tell people, and we'll go around the circle and introduce ourselves and share our one story."

He smiled at them all. "I'll start. I'm Mr. Brown, and I have played drag queens in several different plays, as well as just plain being a girl in a few." There was some laughter, but for the most part everyone was respectful.

Next was the barefoot student. "I'm Nanaba and sometimes I'll watch all the Harry Potter movies in one night and then make food from the books or movies and eat it with my cat, Mrs. Norris." So a major Potterhead, that was good to know.

"I'm Connie Springer and my mother named me after her childhood dog, who was a girl." Well then, he wasn't the only one who thought that was a girly name. It made him feel a little better.

Next was the girl who had tackled Leah. "I'm Madison Elmer and I'm adopted." Was that supposed to be embarrassing? Maybe he was missing something because a couple of students erupted into laughter.

After her was Lexi. "I'm Lexi Evans and last year I fell off stage during a choir concert and brought Madison down with me." The two looked at each other and laughed.

Now it was his turn. "Uh, I'm Jean Kirschtein and…" he was at a loss of things to say. "Uh… This morning I tried to make up something cool about Armin and I said he makes good salsa." There was an outbreak of laughter from a few of his classmates and someone shouted about needing to work on improv. He felt his face reddening and hoped no one could see.

"I'm Armin and this summer a grand total of twelve guys hit on me because they thought I was a girl." Although he sounded a little boastful about it, Jean wasn't sure wether to laugh or feel bad for him. No wonder he included that when he was introducing himself this morning. He himself hadn't been any exception, just a few minutes ago he had thought he was a girl when he had his hood up.

He didn't dwell on it any longer when they moved on. "I'm Hanji and last year I messed up the entire marching band formation because I saw a cat and got distracted." Said the bespectacled girl in a ponytail beside the blonde.

"I'm Christa and one time I ate a whole pizza by myself." Jean was surprised her stomach could contain so much with how small she was.

"I'm Marco Bodt and this summer I faked an injury so I could stay home from a soccer tournament and see the midnight premier of Star Trek." That one surprised him too, he didn't have him pegged as a Trekkie.

Jean checked the clock on the wall behind him. There was still an hour to go. "Alright then, now that we know everyone's name let's play a little game of popcorn." Mr. Brown told them loudly. He had never played popcorn before, and he hoped it was something fun.

* * *

As it turned out popcorn was another name game. They switched around their places and then one person had to go to the middle and name everyone, and by the end of it his new nickname was Jean Valjean, who was apparently from a musical called Les Miserables that he had somehow completely missed being advertised as a movie last year. Lexi had suggested that he come to her house and watch it, an offer he had declined as nicely as he could. He was starting to see what Madison was talking about. She was a huge flirt to say the least.

When the bell finally rang he ran out of the building as fast as he could, nearly knocking over little Christa in his haste. He wasn't sure why he left so fast. He had to walk home anyway, because he couldn't afford a car and he hated the bus. It wasn't a short walk, but he preferred it to the crowded space in one of the vehicles. No matter, he had to wait for all the buses to leave anyway, they were basically blind spots on wheels and he didn't trust their drivers not to kill him. It took all of thirty minutes for them to be gone, and he started out his trek walking fast.

The already overcast sky had grown darker during the day, and the clouds looked ready to burst by now. He was making good time until he had to stop at a crosswalk and ended up waiting for a good ten minutes to be able to go, and then all at once it was pouring. There wasn't any warning and within seconds his worn clothes were completely soaked through, leaving him shivering as the icy droplets ran down his shirt, sharply contrasting to the previously warm day. He sighed in exasperation. He was only halfway home and now all his books were going to get soaked through because he had nothing to keep them dry.

He was looking for somewhere that might provide a little shelter until it lightened up, when a car that had been stopped by the red light with him rolled down their window. "Jean? Is that you?" They asked

Jean recognized the voice, but couldn't quite place it, and in this downpour he couldn't see much past his bangs. "Yeah?"

"You're going to ruin all your books, get in here!" They shouted, and he didn't hesitate to do so. He couldn't afford to replace them, so that was his top priority. Plus, they could only be from school. He hadn't been here long enough to have really met anyone else. He climbed into the passengers seat, not bothering to try to dry off. In this weather it wouldn't help at all. He did hope he didn't ruin their car, but it was beyond his control. "What were you doing walking out there in the rain?" He turned to see none other than the ridiculously girly little Armin Arlert, with concern written all over his face.

"Walking home." He told him, shrugging. He really didn't want Armin to know that he didn't have a car. He may know that he didn't have a lot of money, but he didn't know just how poor he really was.

"Why are you walking? Can't you drive or ride the bus?" Jean could tell that the other boy wasn't trying to be invasive, he was just worried. Not that there was anything to worry about, in a town like this he was sure there wasn't much crime, it wasn't like New York or something. But still, the rain must have been a concern, which was still stupid because it wasn't as if he could control the weather and he hadn't left the school when it was like this.

"I don't like the bus." He stated flatly.

"Then why don't you drive?"

Jean narrowed his eyes, frowning at the other boy. "I'm pretty sure it's illegal for either of us to be driving actually, since you can't get a drivers license until you're eighteen, but I'm not badgering you about your criminal activity."

"Uh... You can get a license at seventeen. I only have a restricted license because I'm sixteen, but I can only drive to school or work." Armin regarded him with a strange expression. "Where did you live before you moved here anyway?"

The light turned green and he put a foot on the gas pedal, moving forward at a ridiculous and almost annoyingly safe distance from the car in front of him. He then put on his blinker and merged onto the highway, once again following probably every safety precaution he had ever been taught and cleared his throat. "Sorry, I'm being too nosy. If you want you can choose a radio station."

Jean had forgotten to answer the question, and now that shy little bastard was trying to make him more comfortable. Ugh this kid would be the death of him, he kept making him feel bad. "You're shy, aren't you?" He watched the blonde who had curled forward a bit, trying to make himself smaller so he might be less noticeable.

"I uhh... Yeah." He allowed himself a quick glance to the side, to check Jean's expression before he continued. "Sorry." His face was already beet red, which made it hard not to notice just how very blue his eyes were. It reminded Jean of the ocean, like you see in those pictures of beaches and probably the clearest water in the world that didn't really look that clear at all, because blue wasn't clear.

"You know that you don't have to say sorry about everything, right? It's not a crime to be shy. Hell, I usually don't talk to anyone." He shrugged. "The only reason I've been talking to you is because you're so damn nervous that if you thought I was mad at you, you might go into cardiac arrest."

"I'm so-" Armin started, then thought better of it and shut his mouth. "So how was your first day? I hope everyone was nice enough to you."

"They were all really nice actually. It's kind of weird." Jean answered, looking around. "Hey, not to make you more uncomfortable than you already are, but where are we going? I mean you don't exactly know where I live or anything."

Armin nearly stopped right there in the middle of the road, and his passenger could practically feel the wave of overwhelming anxiety came over him. "Oh god I'm so sorry, where do you live? I promise I can get you there right away, I really didn't mean to take you home I just wasn't thinking about it. I'm so sorry Jean."

"You know what, maybe it would be best if you just dropped me off. It seems like you're afraid of me or something and I really don't want to get you in a car crash. Besides, I'm not sure how comfortable I'd be with you seeing my house." The last bit was completely true, but he had mainly said it to make the other boy more comfortable.

"Oh I'm not scared I promise, I can take you home." Armin assured him.

"First of all, you are totally scared. You look scared, you sound scared, and you're just acting very scared in general. That doest offend me or anything if that's what you're worried about, but the point is you are scared to death of making me mad at you or whatever and I promise I'm not, but I also don't want to kill either of us in a car crash. Second of all I really don't want you to see my house. You would look down on me if I saw it, I know you would."

"Jean, I am not going to just leave you out in the rain. You'll get sick and then I'll be even more nervous around you." Armin's voice was slightly less shaky than before.

Well at least the kid had admitted to being nervous around him. "Fine, take me to your house and I can wait on the porch or something until it clears up."

Armin took his eyes off the road for a second to look at him. "If you come to my house you'll be coming inside. My mom is home and there's no way she'll let you stay out there, especially when you're all wet."

Jean didn't dare say that would make him uncomfortable for fear of getting Armin all worked up again. As it was he had only just loosened up a little. "Okay, then I'll wait inside for the rain to let up."

"Jean?"

"Yeah?" He had thought that the conversation was over, but maybe not.

"I think you should know, my mom can be a little overwhelming. I don't know what she'll do exactly, but just be prepared." Jean spent the rest of the drive in silence, wondering what that could possibly mean.

* * *

**So what do you think? There will be more fluff and character development later, but for now they've just met. Next chapter will involve Jean at Armin's house and probably go into Armin's past a little, because I'm sure some of you are wondering why Eren has only been mentioned as a cat and not someone who actually goes to the school. All will be explained I promise, as will Armin's anxiety issues with mainly just Jean.**


	2. An Old Friend

Armin's house was exactly like Jean would have expected it to be. Two stories tall, freshly painted, with a lovely well kept garden, and a perfect Hallmark worthy porch. It matched his perfect blue eyes, and flawless skin, as well as his perfectly groomed blonde hair.  
They pulled into the garage, where there was space for another car, and Jean got out quickly. It was too late to help it much, but if he could then Jean would prefer not to completely destroy the seats of the car. Of course that made Armin nervous all over again and the smaller boy got out of the car, flustered and apologizing profusely.

"Hey, calm down. I'm trying not to destroy your seats, I'm not upset." Jean sighed in exasperation. "You don't have to freak out on me. Let's just go inside, preferably somewhere where I won't ruin anything."

Armin looked down at his feet in embarrassment and took a moment to compose himself. "Oh trust me, with my mother you aren't going to get the chance. Just a quick little bet here. I think that within ten minutes of being inside, she's going to give you dry clothes and possibly a shower."

Jean was glad to see Armin making some kind of joke. Any form of humor must mean that he was at least a little more comfortable around him. "You've gotta go one way or another, otherwise it isn't really a bet. So which is it, just the clothes or clothes and a shower?"

Armin deliberated for a minute. "If she has any say in it, you're definitely getting a shower, but even if you say no she'll be giving you clothes. You'll end up taking a shower though because as you are about to see my mother can be very persuasive." He opened the door and they entered the house together. "Oh, and by persuasive I mean bombarding with kindness. She really is nice, but she'll practically maul you."

No sooner had the words left his lips than a woman came into the room. She was a little taller than Armin, but not very much at all, and they looked so much alike it was almost funny. They had the same button nose, astonishingly blue eyes, and straight blonde hair. Really they could have been the same person, Armin the younger version and his mother the older. Her hair was longer than his, and her eyebrows thinner, two more noticeable differences.

_In fact_, he thought, _the longer he looked at them, the more differences he could see._ Before long the two were so obviously two different people and he felt rather stupid about even thinking they looked like the same person. Armin was quite clearly a boy and his mother was a woman.

A woman who was now asking Jean questions in rapid succession. What was his name? Was he okay? Was he one of Armin's friends? Luckily her son answered most of them for him, apparently used to this kind of thing and able to actually process the questions before she asked new ones.

* * *

And then, before he knew what was happening Jean was being rushed to the bathroom and given a nice fluffy towel and clothes to change into. "I'm sorry, none of my husband's clothes looked like they would fit you, so this will have to do until I can finish drying your clothes. No one in this house is particularly tall." Armin's mother, whose name was apparently Claire, told him.

Armin had been right. new clothes and a shower before he could even argue. Claire was nice, he had to agree on that point at least. Bombarding with kindness. He couldn't have thought of a better fitting description if his life depended on it. He might as well get down to business though. After all, he didn't want to take up the bathroom any longer than he had to, someone might have to actually use it. Jean turned on the water and let it warm up for a minute. He liked his showers hot to begin with and now with the freezing cold, wet clothes clinging to his body, hot water sounded wonderful.

The bathroom was beautiful of course, as if it could be anything less in this house. Light green walls and a shower curtain with white wainscoting, cabinets, sink, bathtub, and toilet. Brown and grey mottled tiles finished it all up. All together it was a very clean and well kept looking bathroom. Like one he might have dreamed of having when he was old enough to get a house.

Once the water was to his liking he stripped off his clothes. His faded t-shirt came off easily enough, but the hard part was his jeans. Wet jeans were never exactly easy to get off, especially when they were a little small like Jean's were. He once again silently cursed his lack of money. After the way too difficult task of getting them off, he was finally able to step into the hot water.

It was a bit of a shock at first, just because of the contrasting temperatures of the steaming water and his dead cold skin, but it felt nice. Of course, Jean wasn't dirty and he didn't want to use their soap, so after a few minutes of just letting himself get warmed up he stepped out of the shower and dried off. The towel was softer than the ones he had at home, and it was pretty obvious that they were new. No old towels were this fuzzy. In fact he had to pluck little bits of fluff of where they stuck to his skin.

Jean hadn't had the chance to look at the clothes that Claire had gotten out for him, and when he unfolded them he was surprised to see that there was just a grey T-shirt that said 'rage and serenity' and a pair of pajama pants. And not just any pajama pants, Deadpool ones. Jean had always liked Deadpool, ever since he heard of him. Sure, he was a mercenary and he didn't always fight for the good side, but he did what he had to to get what he wanted, and besides, he was funny. He had been a sort of role model for him ever since he was a kid. Not the part where he killed people and fought for bad guys because they would pay him, but because he would do anything for his goal. Of course, their goals ware actually pretty similar, both of them wanted money. Jean wanted it so that he could have a comfortable life, though with Deadpool it was for no real definable reason.

He put them on and left the bathroom, carrying his wet clothes a little away from his body so they wouldn't soak through into the clothes he was wearing right now. When he got to the living room he was accosted by Claire once again. She took his wet clothes and left with them, going around a corner to where he assumed the dryer must be.

Now that he was alone and undisturbed he was able to look around at the house. The walls were a pale shade of beige and the baseboards and door frames were painted white. There was a very soft looking couch that matched the walls and tile floor almost exactly. There were a few dark grey throw pillows that matched the rug under the couch, and black vases with white roses sat on either side of the TV set. All in all it looked like something out of a magazine and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. _Armin hadn't done anything special to deserve this, no more than Jean had to get his own leaky decrepit shack of a house. How come he couldn't have this?_

His thoughts were interrupted by a little gasp from behind him and he turned to see Armin looking at him with an expression that he couldn't quite place. He figured it must have something to do with the fact that he wasn't wearing real pants. He knew some people were really weird about that kind of thing, and they had just met, so it was possible that he thought they weren't well aquainted enough to see each other in pajamas. He tried to fix the situation by apologizing. "Hey man, I'm sorry. Your mom said these are all you had that might fit me. I'll put my real pants back on as soon as your mom gives them back to me."

Armin just blinked and tilted his head back, fixing his eyes on some invisible point on the ceiling. He seemed a little puzzled, but it was hard to tell. He was acting awfully weird. "Oh, that's not an issue. It's okay, I didn't even notice really.

Of course, that left Jean wondering what the problem was exactly. Whatever that face had meant, it looked like it was something unpleasant. He didn't think it would be appropriate to ask, so instead he focused on the small movement at the far end of the room, where he was able to see a cat making its way out from behind a coffee table. It had green eyes and a solid dark brown coat. He had never seen a cat like that before, and his curiosity must have shown on his face because Armin sat down on the couch and said "Havana brown."

"What?"

"The cat. It's a Havana brown. His name is Eren, I told you about him during chemistry. He's usually friendly, so he shouldn't bother you." Armin's voice had gone strangely flat, but at least he had been able to talk some more without any apologies. Maybe he was just more comfortable at his own house, or maybe it was something else, but it was a bit of an improvement. As ridiculous as it might seem, he felt almost guilty when the other boy apologized. He knew he was making him uncomfortable and he couldn't help but feel bad about it.

"Well, he's a pretty cat. I've never seen one like him." He said conversationally.

"You probably wouldn't have, they aren't your everyday house cat." Armin replied. His lifeless tone was getting a little bit unsettling at this point, and though Jean would like to just change the subject more than anything, he wasn't sure if it would make it better or worse.

"When did you get him?"

"Last year. Around the same time that..." He trailed off uncertainly. "Well you don't need the whole story, it would just bore you. He's about about seven months old." He stood back up slowly. "Do you want something to eat? It's going to be a while before this rain stops."  
Jean opened his mouth to tell him that he was fine without food, when his stomach growled so loudly that it was almost comical. Well, at least comical enough to get Armin out of his emotional stupor.

"I'll take that as a yes." He said with a pleasant grin. "Well, come with me. We have plenty of things to choose from. Mom likes to keep enough food around to feed a small army. She wants there to be plenty just in case I have friends over. I don't have nearly enough of those to eat all of it, but at least that means lots of options."

Jean noticed that he was rambling again, which could only mean that he was less uncomfortable than he had been earlier. When he had been uncomfortable his sentences were clipped and short, as courteous as possible without actually having to talk much. He wondered again if it was just because he was in his own house, or if there was something else. Maybe Jean had done something that made himself seem less intimidating, but he couldn't think of what it could have been.

Armin opened the fridge and gestured for him to look inside. It was full of what you would expect someone like him to keep in a fridge. Fresh fruit and vegetables, along with fancy bread and deli lunch meat. There was absolutely nothing unhealthy, but at the same time there wasn't anything particularly appetizing. So when Armin wrinkled his nose and told him they had pizza rolls too if he wanted some, Jean jumped on the offer.

* * *

It was going to be a brief wait until they came out of the oven, so in the meantime Armin offered to show him around the house. There wasn't exactly anything else to do, so he decided to accept the blonde boy's offer. Of course, he knew it would be much like what he had already seen, grand and clean and perfect, but he was still curious.

First up was the dining room. In the middle was an average sized table made of some sort of dark brown wood. The carpet was the same as it was in the living room, and the walls were papered with a kind of wallpaper that had thin vertical stripes in alternating cream and beige. There was a small chandelier, not exactly fancy, but it added a modest touch of elegance that Jean couldn't help but notice. He had always loved cutting pictures of houses and rooms out of magazines, it gave him something to strive for when he had a . Because of having done that, he was easily able to see how the little details in the room made it look so much better, and really couldn't not see it. He had to hand it to whoever put the place together, they knew what they were doing.

He said as much to Armin, who blushed and waved a hand, saying that it was really just something they had done to change things up a little. That left Jean astounded, because how could he possibly have done this entire house? It seemed quite the achievement for anyone, but for a sixteen year old boy it was especially impressive even to stick with it to the end of the project, and with the way he was blushing it wasn't a long shot to say he had designed most of it.

"When did you do all this?" He asked incredulously.

Armin took a step back from him, his expression suddenly guarded. "We redecorated this summer. Mom thought it would be a good experience for me."

"What exactly do your parents do for a living?" He asked before he could stop himself.  
Armin snorted. "What does it matter? We're on a tour of the house, not a journey through the life of Armin Arlert." As soon as the words left his lips he seemed to realize that he might have just been rude, and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, it's not that I'm mad at you, it's just that you remind me of a friend."

"And you're mad at your friend?"

"No, but sometimes that's how we talked." He seemed distracted, and left the room mid sentence to lead the way to the next. The past tense didn't escape Jean's notice, but he figured that he might have just misspoken.

The room they came to next had an entire wall dominated by tall windows with white shutters. The walls were a pale grey that on a sunny day might have reflected the light to a pleasant brightness, but for now it was dim inside, so dim that the white trim nearly blended into the walls. There were a few simple chairs, and a wall covered in bookshelves, but aside from that the room was empty. "This is the reading room. The library I guess, if you prefer. Although not all of our books are in here so that wouldn't exactly be an accurate term. I always wanted to have my own library though, so that's what I call it."

"Then I guess it's the library. Maybe you should make a sign or something. No better way to tell the world, is there?"

Armin grinned. "Maybe I will."

They went back to the hall, where they went into the next room. It was a deep shade of blue,with even more white trim, and this time even crown molding. In the corner there was a bed, made with a blue and yellow quilt, and an old looking white dresser that was chipped, revealing bits of yellowing paint. On top there was a plain lamp with a shade that matched the quilt, and a blue bottle glass vase filled with fake sunflowers.  
"You sure do use a lot of white." Jean observed.

"It looks better when it's sunny, everything looks really bright and clean." Armin explained, waving an arm as if to demonstrate it, though it didn't show him anything at all. "Right now it just looks dull and boring, but that's the exception, I swear."

Of course, he was probably right. He was just the kind of person who was always right about that sort of thing. About anything really. Even if he wasn't, he had a trustable face, a believable face. _It would be hard not to take his word for anything at all, even if he said that the sky was purple and made of hedgehogs._ Jean shook his head to clear it. Sometimes his mind would just wander like that, and it never failed to annoy him. _Why couldn't he just not think about people and their faces and all of that horrible stuff that made him so uncomfortable? Better yet, why couldn't there always be something going on that was entertaining enough that his mind didn't have to wander?_

Finally, after what seemed like a life long uncomfortable pause a beeping sound could be heard from in from the kitchen. Armin, jumped, and spun around as fast as he could to go to the kitchen. Jean followed him a short distance behind, his longer slower strides easily matching the distance of the other boy's short hurried ones. He stood in the doorway, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do while the blonde pulled on a pair of oven mitts (black with cherries on them, just adding to the unfair adorableness that no sixteen year old boy should possess) and pulled the pizza rolls out of the oven.

It was funny, Armin was precisely the kind of kid that he saw getting beat up at every school he had been to, but he was so unbelievably kind that it was hard to imagine why anyone would beat him up. He hadn't personally witnessed anything like that happening, but it wasn't difficult to tell. Jean knew it wasn't entirely his own fault that he was so scared of him. He was a kid who had probably been made fun of and beaten up on a regular basis for most of his life.

* * *

The pizza rolls were good, but after he had finished eating them, Jean found himself wishing that it wasn't the first day of school and that he had homework. Anything to avoid the uncomfortableness between them. At least Eren the cat seemed to like him pretty well. Every time he would purr or nuzzle into him Armin would beam at them.

"You know, he likes you pretty well. I'm glad you got to meet him, I don't get to introduce him to very many people."

"He's really friendly, especially for a cat. Not that cats aren't friendly or anything, but yeah a lot of them aren't." He responded quietly. He was at a bit of a loss for things to say at the moment. He didn't want to talk about himself, and he didn't much care what Armin had to say about himself. It wasn't that he as anything specifically against the kid, but he seemed a bit too tragic, and tragic would just make everything awkward.

"Do you have any pets?"

Jean couldn't stand it anymore."You know what? I think it's time for me to go. I know it's still raining and everything, but I just think that I've overstayed my welcome."  
Armin's eyes seemed to loose some of their light, but he smiled politely all the same. "Well, I'm not going to hold you hostage here or anything if you really want to go, but you're welcome to stay however long you want to." He sounded so sincere that Jean felt the absurd urge to apologize for being rude. "My mom might be a problem though, you've already seen some of that. If you insist on leaving then she'll probably forcibly drive you home. Either way you aren't going to walk in the rain."

Claire had been in and out of the living room to see if they wanted anything about five times now. She had given Jean his now dry clothes and even asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner. Honestly it was starting to make him angry. _Why did she have to take pity on him like that? _It wasn't as if he needed it. He was perfectly capable of going home on his own and eating his own meals, and he refused to be thankful for their charity. He hated charity, he didn't it and he thought it made him look like a freeloader, which he definitely wasn't.

"Maybe I'll just leave without telling her. That is a thing I can do you know, I don't have to ask permission to leave, and I don't need your any of your help." Jean snapped.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that-"

"No, you know what? It doesn't matter how you meant it. We aren't friends, okay? I don't have time for friends, and even if I did, why would I choose you? So you can show off how much money you have and how you're mister perfect? Well I can see that well enough, thank you very much, so you don't need to rub it in my face." Jean continued coldly. His venting only made him feel better for a second, because now Armin was now giving him a look that made him wish he could just go back in time and never get in the car with him.

"You're only angry with me because you're jealous that I have money and you don't. And I'm not afraid to admit it, I'm angry too. I was trying to be nice to you because I like to think I'm a decent human being, but if you don't want that, then fine, go. I would give you all of this stuff if I could, but I can't so we have to live the way it is." His voice wasn't even aggressive, it was more calculating than anything, and there was an edge behind it that was almost frightening out of the mouth of someone so sweet and innocent. "I think the real reason you don't have friends is that you can't make them, no one would ever like you because you're mean to them."

Jean stared at him with wide eyes. Had he really just challenged him? Coming from someone like that, who would never win in a fight, that kind of outburst was absurd. Before he even knew what he was doing, he started laughing. It was all just so absurd. Going over to someone's house the same day that he met them and then loosing his temper with them in their own living room after they had been nothing but nice, and a little tiny girly boy telling him off like that. "You've got guts, I like that. You're right, I'm jealous. It's stupid, but I am, and being rude to you isn't going to fix anything. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm sorry for being so mean." He held out his hand for a high five, but Armin grabbed his hand and shook it instead. Jean just shook his head and smiled.

"Well if we can't be friends then maybe we can just agree not to hate each other. After all, it seems like we're going to be lab partners in chemistry. We might as well get along." He was smiling too, a small shy smile that looked half forced. Why was that though? Jean had said sorry and that should have been enough, right?

He did feel an unusual amount of warmth towards the boy, and if not for the fact that it wasn't exactly a good thing because he would have to move before long, it would have been a very nice feeling. "You know, you're a really weird kid. I don't mean that in a bad way either, it's just that I've met a lot of people and none of them were quite like you."  
That clearly pulled Armin up short, he just stared at Jean with an absolutely pitiful expression on his face. He just seemed confused and hurt in a way that didn't really make sense given the situation. That had been meant as a compliment, but he still kept making that face like a wounded puppy.

"I still need to get home though, my dad will get worried." That was a lie, his dad was working a double shift and wouldn't get home until much later. Hell, even when he did get back he would be way too tired to notice wether or not he was home. "But if Claire absolutely insists then I guess I can get a ride from her." Armin started to protest, but he interrupted him. "No, you still can't take me home. My mind hasn't changed there at least, you don't get to see where I live."

If anything Armin seemed apologetic about not being welcome, it was weird how often his emotions just didn't fit with what was going on._ It was like he was on some sort of separate plane of being, entirely different from the rest of the world and yet still connected._

Just as he was getting ready to mentally slap himself for getting so off track again, Claire came into the room. "Jean, are you doing okay? Do you need anything? Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" She asked, her expression of concern almost identical to the one her son had been wearing when he invited him into the car.

"Actually Mrs Arlert, I was just going to leave. I need to be getting home or my dad will worry. Thank you for everything." He tried to back out of the room as he spoke. He knew it was useless, but if it were at all possible to just be able to walk himself home then he would try for it.

"Oh, is Armin driving you?" Her tone was almost frighteningly kind. It was weird how awkward it felt to be worried over like this, he had never really had that before. He was an independent person who scoffed at those too weak to take care of themselves.  
"No, I was going to walk" Jean told her. Before the word 'walk' was even all the way out, he could practically sense her disapproval.

She rounded on her son, opening her mouth to say something like 'you should be nicer to our guests' and before she could really get on his case he interrupted and said, "It's not his fault, I just don't want him to see my house."

Obviously that wasn't a reason that she was expecting to hear, because her face held nothing but confusion when she turned back to look at him. "Why?"

He felt his cheeks getting hot with embarrassment and quickly looked down, focusing all of his attention as a faded spot on his old beaten up converse shoes where he had dripped a drop of hand sanitizer that bleached the fabric. "I just don't. Please just let me walk."

She let out a little huff of breath and looked at him with her hands on her hips. "Well I can't just let you out in the rain to freeze, but I can take you myself and not tell Armin anything about it."

Up until this point her son had been watching with mild interest, but at that he looked at her incredulously. "You know, I am still here. I can hear everything you're saying."

She just waved a hand at him. "Oh hush, I meant that I wouldn't tell you where he lived or anything like that. It's not like we're conspiring against you or anything." She took a second to flash him a little smile. "Well, not yet at least. There'll be plenty of time for that later."

Jean had to stifle a laugh. The two of them were both so strange. How was it possible to be so kind and caring? It wasn't like they expected anything from him in return, they were just doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. And they were still capable of sarcasm too, he could appreciate that. "Well Mrs. Arlert, that sounds perfectly acceptable to me." He wasn't sure why he wasn't using her first name to her face, but even the idea of it seemed weird to him.

She was already picking up her car keys, and gave him another one of her kind smiles. "Okay let's go."

* * *

It seemed that Claire knew the city pretty well, all Jean had to do was tell her the address and they were off in what he assumed must be the right direction. Of course, he wouldn't say it to her, but it made him realize that if she had let him walk then he wouldn't even know where to start.

They just sat there in silence for a while, not exactly uncomfortable, but also not so comfortable to be relaxed. Well, maybe she was, but he sure wasn't. He decided to break the silence by asking her a question. "Armin seemed really scared of me sometimes, but other times he seemed so comfortable that it was like we had been friends for a while. Was I doing something bad or is he just like that with some people?" He knew it might be a rude question, but he was curious and it wasn't like they would see each other often. Even if they did, she seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't hold a grudge about something so small as an insensitive question.

"Armin is..." She sighed. "He's never really had a lot of friends. A lot of the other kids don't really like him because he's a little bit girly, and too smart for his own good. He doesn't like to back down on his opinions, even if it means getting beat up again. It's happened so many times. I guess he's just a little wary of people is all." Claire explained, shrugging. "I might be wrong here, but I think you remind him a little of Eren too."

Jean was dumbfounded. "I remind him of his cat?"

She looked over at him in confusion for a moment, but then seemed to realize what he meant and gave him a sad little smile. "I told him not to name that cat Eren, you know. I said that it would be confusing, and that when it died it would be harder, but he didn't listen. He's very strong willed, you know. It doesn't look it, but he is. The Eren I'm talking about was Armin's best friend. They were friends from the moment they met, it must have been in kindergarden."

Jean once again noticed the use of the past tense, but didn't say anything. "And you think I look like him?"

"Oh, heavens no. He had dark hair, it was longer than yours, and he had green eyes. His face was a little more square too, yours is sort of longer and thinner." She glanced over at him. "You are about the same size though, those clothes I gave you belonged to him. I wasn't sure how he would react, I mean we only have a few of his clothes, but you couldn't walk around without something to wear."

Jean remembered the little gasp and the odd expression from when he had gotten out of the shower and felt suddenly colder. He must have been right in thinking it was an unpleasant reaction. He was using his best friends clothes, and from where this conversation was going..."If it's not being too nosy, what happened to Eren?"

"Oh honey, it won't hurt anything if you know. He died last year, it was a car crash. Absolutely terrible. I think Armin blames himself for it, he had called him and asked if he could pick him up from one of his little debate tournaments. It was late, and I was out with Ben, that's my husband, so he was going to get a ride to Eren's house and they would spend the night. It was all really convenient, it would be so nice, but then there was the crash and poor Eren was dying in the hospital for about three days. Well, Armin and Mikasa didn't leave his side the whole time, the three of them had always been so close, but he passed away during the night while they were in the room with him. Armin hasn't really been the same since. He and Mikasa haven't spent a bit of time together afterwards, I'm pretty sure he's too guilty about the whole thing to face her, but she calls or comes over to ask me how he is from time to time. They were such great friends, it's really terrible what happened." She really did sound sad, almost on the verge of tears. It did explain a few things though, seeing him in those clothes would have been like seeing a ghost, or worse, like he was defiling Eren's memory.

"How am I like him?" He couldn't stop his curiosity, no matter how much he knew he should. He just needed to know.

"He was bullheaded and fearless, and I get the impression that you are to. He knew what he wanted in life and he wouldn't stop at anything to get it. He was rude and sarcastic sometimes too, but it wasn't in a way that was mean, and even though it sometimes came across that way, it wasn't too hard to tell that he didn't mean it." She smiled again, maybe recalling a memory. "You have the same look in your eye too, curious, angry at the world. Armin loved that boy to death, they would have defended each other to the death, Mikasa too. I think there are too few people like that in this world."

"Thank you Mrs. Arlert. I didn't mean to be nosy or anything, but I think I understand a little better now." He paused a minute and added "Armin seems like a really good person. I'm sure the three of them were lucky to have each other."

Claire just nodded in response, looking very calm and very sad at the same time, so Jean stared out the window for most of the rest of the ride. He was thinking about this Eren, and about everything that had happened between them today. _He had seemed broken and fragile, and that wounded puppy expression easily could have come from some connection he made between him and his hold dead friend. _It was horrible that something like that had to happen to someone like him. He was so lost in his own mind, that he didn't even notice that they had pulled up to his own house.

It was tiny and old, with chipping faded paint and broken windows. On the inside there was a framed kitchen, an even worse bathroom, and a single bedroom that they separated into two with a little curtain. It was horrible by itself, but after leaving Armin's house he was especially self conscious about it.

If Claire judged him for it though, she didn't indicate it. Instead she looked at him very seriously. "Jean, I know this may be asking a lot, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I would really appreciate it if you would try to look out for Armin. I'm not saying you need to jump into a fight for him or anything, but he just feels so alone now and he could use a friend. Even if you're just nice to him when you see him."

He couldn't exactly turn her down, so he told her that he would and went inside, wondering why this responsibility had to be given to him, and why he had to move so often, because if it weren't for that then he wouldn't even have to hesitate.

* * *

**Yes, I killed off Eren. Sorry about that, but it's important to the character development and storyline and it's also AU so anything can happen really. This is one of the darker themes/character deaths that I mentioned in the summary. Thanks for reading and I really hope you liked it. Please remember to review so you can tell me what you think/if you have any ideas/if you caught the reference. I do have a sequence of events but if you have something you want to happen and I like it too and it would fit in, then there's a good chance I'll add it to the story! Thanks again.**


	3. Something Wrong

**Trigger warning, in depth talk of a fatal car crash, and death. Mentioned depression.**

* * *

Jean crawled into bed that night thinking about what Claire had said. Of course, Jean had never had very close friends, but even moving away from people that he felt some sort of companionship towards was really hard. He couldn't imagine a lifelong friend dying, especially if it happened while you were right beside him. He did dimly remember seeing Mikasa in one of his classes. She had looked bored with everything, but maybe he had mistaken her sadness for apathy. This was the first school year they would be starting without him, so it had probably been pretty difficult for both of them. Some part of him wondered if Mikasa had been Eren's girlfriend, and he felt a stab of something he couldn't quite place. Jealousy? No that couldn't be right, he barely knew the girl to start out with, and even if he did, why would he be jealous of some kid who had died a horrible death?

Maybe it was these thoughts that caused it, but he had a dream that night that he really was Eren.

* * *

_He was wearing a new pair of jeans, and the T-shirt from earlier that day, the one that said 'rage and serenity' and he was cleaning up an unfamiliar room. All of a sudden he heard his phone ring, the ringtone was some funny little thing that sounded like something from Mario. He answered it without checking to see who it was, because he already knew. It was Armin._

_"I'm at the school, can you come get me?" It didn't sound like the voice was coming through the phone, it was more like they were in the room together, he noticed. Of course it wasn't like it mattered anyway, he had to go to school and get Armin._

_"I'm on my way." He told the other boy, hanging up and slipping his cellphone into his pocket. On his way out of the house- no, _his_ house, he caught a glimpse of his reflection. He was still himself, but he knew who he really was. His name was Eren, it didn't really matter to him at the moment what his last name was. He picked up his keys and got into his car. He didn't know what kind of car it was exactly, but it was one of those tallish cars that were the same height as a normal van, but only fit four people, five if they scrunched someone into the middle seat in the back. It wasn't old or new, and it seemed like it was in okay condition. He backed out of the driveway even though he didn't really know how, and set off down the street._

_He had just left his house on the way to the school. The roads all blended together and he didn't know where he was going exactly, but he knew he would get there if he kept going. He was on a country road and it was late, there wasn't anyone around, so he sped up the car and turned the radio on. He knew that if Armin were here he would be freaking out and telling him to slow down, but he didn't care. Armin could scold him for it on the way home. He would know that he had been speeding as soon as he got there because of how much faster he would get there than he normally should, but he wouldn't be too harsh, he knew that much. There was a sound like something falling over, and he looked over to check what it was, not wanting his soda from earlier to spill and make the floors all sticky._

_Then all of a sudden he was feeling completely weightless, so he looked up to see what was happening. What he found was that he had come to the top of a hill where the road turned sharply. He hadn't made the turn, because he wasn't looking, and now he was flying. No, flying implied that he was moving fast. He was floating through the air, and it seemed like he was going in slow motion. Ahead, the ground was far below him, his view of it only obstructed by a tree. After what seemed like at least a few minutes of peaceful gliding, his car was hitting the tree with enough force to throw him forward and he was flying out the window, shards of glass raining down like pieces of diamonds as he watched them, the only thought coming to his mind being that he had completely forgotten to buckle his seatbelt. __His body came to a jolting stop farther up in the branches. _

_Nothing had really changed, but he dimly registered that some time had passed since he had been flung into the tree, and he looked around to see what had become of his car. There below him laid only a broken, twisted, smoking mess of metal and glass shards. Although his own body didn't hurt, he was able to see that his clothes were stained with blood, dripping scarlet down his face and body to leave their mark on the snow below. Had there been snow there before? He couldn't really remember, everything was so fuzzy. He could hear the sound from earlier that had reminded him of Mario and tried to reach for his phone, but it was on the ground and he couldn't move his arms anyway, he wasn't even sure if he had arms anymore. Hell, he didn't know if he was alive anymore._

_Everything faded away for a while, but finally he opened his eyes to find himself in a hospital bed. Everything was clean and white, and the smell of bleach and cleaning products burned his lungs more than it probably should have. He looked down and saw a tube going into his mouth. It scared him a little, as did the beeps and whirs of the machines all around his bed, but he didn't have the energy to sit up or say anything about it, so he decided to use the little __amount that he had to look around._

_There were two people in the room with him. His mother wasn't one of them, but that didn't surprise him since she was dead and he must not be. After all, if he were dead then he wouldn't be in a hospital, wether it was heaven or hell. He was, however, surprised and annoyed to see that his father wasn't there either. Where was he? What was more important to seeing your son who was recovering from a near death experience? Apparently he was more important to his two best friends, Armin and Mikasa. He recognized Mikasa immediately, with her silky black hair that fell just past her shoulders and her pretty brown eyes. He was pretty sure she was Asian, but her face kept blurring and twisting into different shapes. Armin's face was steady though, beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair so soft that he wanted to reach out and touch it so that he could know what it felt like, but he couldn't because his arms wouldn't move from the bed he laid on._

_As much as he was happy to see both of them, he was a little put off by the fact that both of them were crying. Mikasa'a face hardly changed when she cried, but her cheeks were wet, and her eyes were puffy and red, so he knew she must be. Armin however, had his entire face scrunched up in sadness, and his eyes were blurred out by tears. His nose was running too and he would have told the kid to just go blow his nose or something if he could talk, but he couldn't, so instead he continued to study his face. It took him a while to see that his lips were moving, and he realized that he must be saying something. He couldn't hear the words, but if he watched closely he thought he could make out the words "I'm so sorry Eren, this is all my fault." and for a second wanted nothing more than to throw a ball of paper at him like he used to (he didn't know when used to happened, but he knew that it had) and tell him not to be stupid because that wasn't true at all and he didn't blame him one bit. Still he couldn't move, so instead he looked back to Mikasa._

_Sitting in the chair where she had been was a boy with blue green eyes and shaggy dark brown hair. Jean knew at once that it was the real Eren, partly because he was wearing the familiar T-shirt and partly because it made little sense for it to be anyone else. He leaned forward and smiled, whispering so softly that Jean almost didn't hear him at all "Take care of him for me. You can do that, can't you? Please take care of Armin." He tried to smile back, and turned his head again._

_He looked back over to Armin's chair to tell him not to cry because his friend was okay, but Armin was gone, replaced by his mother Claire. She looked sad, crying just as Armin had been before. They cried the same way, it brought out their resemblance. "Why won't you just help my son? He's a good boy, he's such a good little boy." _

_She was drowned out before long by Mikasa, who was back now, standing next to his bed with Eren, shaking him. "WHY AREN'T YOU DOING A BETTER JOB PROTECTING HIM, HE WAS MY FRIEND!" _

_"MY POOR SON" Mrs. Arlert's wailing rose up again, so shrill and pained that he wanted to tape her mouth shut or something. Anything to make it stop. She was hurting his ears and his whole head felt ready to explode._

_"Protect him, Jean."_

_Their voices became louder and louder, Eren's never rising above a whisper, but it somehow was able to cut through the other's like a knife so that he was the most audible of all of them. The chorus of shouting continued as it grew and grew until he was afraid he would go deaf forever._

* * *

Jean jerked awake, kicking off his frayed blanket in his haste to sit up. A quick peek around the curtain that separated the room into two parts told him that his dad wasn't home yet. On nights like this he never bothered getting ready for bed, just collapsed onto the mattress in his clothes and fell asleep, so if he was home that's where he would be. He checked his phone, a beaten old flip phone that was at least five years old. He would have gotten a new one, but he couldn't afford it and neither could his dad. The important thing was that it worked okay and the time was right. At the moment it read 4:58, so he got out of bed and got dressed. An early start wouldn't hurt him and at the moment he was too shaken to go back to sleep.

He put his books in his bag and went to his tiny closet, pulling out a plain short sleeved green shirt. It was one of his best, so he was glad to be able to wear it. He was planning on wearing his jeans from yesterday, but whe he went to pick them up from where he had folded them on the floor he found that they were soaking wet. It seemed he had managed to put them under a leaky spot in the ceiling. Those were his only pair of halfway decent pants. He reached down under his bed and reluctantly pulled out a pair of black and grey basketball shorts. It wasn't really his first choice of clothing, but he had to wear something and they would do well enough.

He hung his jeans over the closet door to dry, and got a large pot from the kitchen to catch the water that dripped down from the ceiling. He grabbed a jacket too, almost as an afterthought and headed out the front door.

Jean was very happy to find that the rain had almost completely stopped. It was just a light drizzle now, that left tiny droplets of water on his hair and eyelashes. Of course, it was still chilly out, so he was glad for his jacket, but it wasn't like last night when he felt like a drowned rat the second he got outside.

As he started down the street his stomach growled, but he ignored it. They didn't have enough food at home to be wasting on breakfast, and the school gave him free breakfast and lunch. He still hated charity, but that was one of the few reasons he would tolerate it. Being a teenage boy meant eating a lot of food, and if it was free then he would take it without question.

* * *

When he finally got to school it was almost 6:30, which gave him another hour before school started for his damp clothes to dry, for him to eat, and to familiarize himself with the school a little more. He liked getting to school early, it gave him more time to do stuff that he needed to get done, and besides, teachers tended to like the kids who they thought were dedicated, and who was he to turn down a little favoring and bonus points when they came his way?

First thing was first, he needed something to eat. His stomach was now making a nearly constant growling noise, and it was becoming more than a little bit painful. In the cafeteria they were serving hot pockets and juice boxes, so he got one of both, not having to pay for it, as usual. Although it wasn't really that much food, it did at least help settle his stomach.

He spent the rest of his spare time trudging through the halls and memorizing the fastest route to all of his classes. It didn't take long to figure out which ways were best, but he persisted in going over them again and again until the bell to go to class sounded. He was on the other side of the school, but pretty confident about finding his way to chemistry, so he didn't rush. In the hallways nearly every face was a stranger. There were the few that he recognized from yesterday, flitting in between the others. It made him feel like an intruder, barging into someplace he had no business being.

the feeling got worse when he saw Armin. He automatically felt guilty about his dream. He had no right to dream about someone he had never known, and no right to think himself some sort of protector for their best friend. He sat down silently and the two exchanged pleasant nods.

They spent the rest of the class period studiously ignoring one another. It was sort of strange, because it wasn't as if either of them were mad; at least that wasn't the case for Jean and he couldn't imagine why Armin would be upset with him. With another pang of guilt he remembered that he was apparently like Eren and that might be making him reluctant to start liking him.

_That's good_. He tried to tell himself. _I'm not supposed to get close to anyone either. Last night was a fluke. No friends, no attachments, that's how it has to be. _But his heart really wasn't in it and before he knew it class was over and he was walking to math class with Marco, who had explained to him that this school had a block schedule, and today he had chemistry, math, creative writing, and acting because those were his odd numbered classes. Tomorrow he would have the evens and math, which was shorter or something and they had it every day but Monday, and Mondays they had all of their classes but their third hour.

Of course Jean would have math every day. It was probably his least favorite class, though it was very close to chemistry. Still, it probably had it beat. It wasn't even like he was bad at math, he knew how to do it and was pretty good. He just hated it. He didn't really understand much of the explanation of classes other than that he had to go through that hell every day, but Marco had given his word that it would get easier to remember.

As soon as he sat down in his seat he remembered that Mikasa was in this class. That was how he remembered her, however little he did. He wasn't sure he could face her without asking something about Eren and seeming like a complete dick. Then again, he wasn't planning on being a super nice person, nice people were liked by lots of people and when other people liked him then he started to like them back. _I'll ask her then, it won't hurt anything. She looked tougher than Armin anyway_.

He didn't even have the chance to look around to see if she was in the room yet, before she was standing next to him, looking into his eyes with more seriousness and coldness than he would have thought possible for someone so pretty. He hadn't payed much attention to her yesterday, other than to see her dark hair and eyes. He had recognized that she was pretty, but he didn't have time for having a crush on anyone, so as with any other pretty girl he just ignored her. Now, at this proximity, it was hard to do that.

"You went home with Armin." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Wha- How do you know that?" He stumbled across his words stupidly.

She didn't answer him, but looked ready to deliver a heavy blow to his face. "If you do anything to hurt him. _Anything. _I will not hold back when I get started on you. Do you understand me?" Her voice held no emotion, but that made it all the more terrifying.

"You're threatening me with beating the shit out of me if I do anything to Armin right? I think I understand you just fine." He was unable to stop the sarcasm from entering his voice, though he knew it was probably a bad idea.

Mikasa narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't say a word. Instead she whirled around to walk back to her desk. Before he really even thought about what he was doing, he had reached out and grabbed her arm. Her response was immediate, as was the sharp pain in his wrist.

"Jesus Christ, I just wanted to ask you a question." He whimpered, in a voice that was far from manly, clutching his wrist.

"What?" She didn't sound remotely sorry for hurting, which concerned him. Obviously that had been her idea of holding back.

"What happened to Eren? Why did he get in that crash? Armin thinks it's his fault, why?" He could hear his voice shake. He was pretty sure he was about to get his head bashed in, and from the looks of it so did Reiner, who had come into the room just in time to hear his question and whose expression and sympathetic wince clearly showed how he thought that question would end for him. Mikasa's own face had darkened into an unreadable and calm expression. He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't mind the question or if it were the calm before the storm. He somehow suspected the latter.

Instead she smiled. Or it was something close to a smile, one corner of her mouth pulled up a little, barely enough to be visible. "He was a really shitty driver actually, I'm surprised he went that long without getting in a crash."

Jean felt his confusion register on his face, and quickly tried to hide it. It might not be best to question her right now.

"He was going to pick Armin up, but that doesn't make it his fault. He won't listen to me when I tell him so, and now he won't talk to me at all. He's too guilty about the whole thing. Eren was my brother, and I knew him better than almost anyone. He was reckless, he didn't pay attention to the road." She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I thought he would just get some sort of fender bender and wise up, no one ever would have expected it to happen like it did."

Jean left caution behind as he continued his questions. "How did it happen exactly? Was it a head on collision or something else? And how were you in the same grade if you were brother and sister? Were you fraternal twins or something?"

She sat down across from him. "I'm adopted, but we were the same age." she started, obviously deciding to start out with the easier question. He wasn't exactly sure why she was so willing to answer him, he hadn't thought she would be. Maybe it was just for Armin's sake. She still loved him, probably as much as she had her brother, and love made people do all kinds of things they wouldn't normally do. Like talking about their recently deceased adoptive brother apparently. "It was winter, so there was snow and ice on the road. The most likely explanation is that he was going too fast or turned too hard. Maybe both. Either way, he went off the road. He might have been okay, but no one found him for almost an hour. He was basically dead by then, the only reason he wasn't was the cold. It slowed the bleeding, but we all knew there wasn't much chance for him. They still tried to save him, they amputated an arm and a leg that were beyond help and had him hooked up to a bunch of machines. He had hypothermia, brain damage, blunt force trauma, places where the branches from tree he got stuck in had stabbed him all the way through. You name it he had it. It was horrible seeing him like that, he might as well have been in a coma. The last night he did wake up for a while, and he acted almost like normal. He smiled at us and said he felt like a million bucks. He kept pretending he was feeling great until right before he died. I think he felt it coming, because up until then he was acting so happy, probably for Armin. At the end though he said goodbye and I think that's what really broke him." She looked down and her face wasn't visible behind her hair, but he saw a tear fall into her lap.

He was close to crying himself. That was a real person, not just someone from a sad movie. He didn't think himself an emotional person, but something about Eren was much sadder than anything he had really experienced. Maybe because he was someone who was apparently a lot like him. Still, if he were in the same position he doubted he would have been able to even pretend he was okay, not for anyone.

Mikasa was looking at him again, her eyes were puffy, but there was no other real sign that she was crying. "I'm only telling this so that you know why you need to be careful with Armin. Claire told me that you remind her of Eren. You have to understand, Armin can't loose another Eren, so either you promise that you can stay here and be there for him, or you don't even let him think that you're friends. He's the only family I have left now, and I know I can't do much to help him, but I try to stop him getting hurt any more than he needs to."

"I can't promise I'll be here for him. I can't even promise I'll be here for a year. I'm sorry, but I just can't. He seems like a great person, but I can't promise that." He told her, trying to communicate that it was nothing against him. He felt bad, Armin needed someone that he could actually be around, and even if Mikasa did try to protect him, she had said herself that she couldn't be around him.

"Then stay away from him. Don't be mean, but don't let him think that the two of you are friends. You don't seem that bad, and I think you two could be, but I swear if I see you getting his hopes up, with the knowledge that you won't be there for him, then my threat still stands." She got up and looked at him, not angrily really, just sort of disappointed.

He hesitated before speaking again. "I know it's not my place to comment on it, but I'm glad he has you. He needs someone looking out for him." He had decided that he liked Mikasa very much. His wrist was still throbbing, but that meant that she was strong, and maybe Armin needed someone strong to fight his battles for him. Heaven knows he couldn't fight them himself.

She nodded, not showing any real expression. "Thanks. I'm really sorry you can't be here. I think you'd be good for each other." She responded. Jean already felt that there was some sort of unspoken alliance between them. They would both look out for Armin, and try to keep him safe and happy as best they could.

* * *

The rest of the week passed by uneventfully. Jean made sure not to talk or really show any form of affection towards Armin, which wasn't overly difficult for him. He had a knack for making people dislike him, wether it was by being rude or snobbish, or just being a dick in general. He tried to just be rude and uncaring with Armin though, he didnt want to hurt him or anything. If he was to be entirely honest with himself, he didn't really know why he was so concerned with the guy, it wasn't as if he had never been at a school where someone had died recently. Really, one death in the grade level was a pretty low mortality rate, all things considered. Maybe he just had a soft spot for Armin because he was so fragile, or maybe it was because he still felt a little uncomfortable for thinking Armin was a girl those two times, like he owed him or something. Hell, maybe he just didn't want to have his ass kicked by some girl he barely knew.

It was another two weeks before anything worth noticing happened between them. There was an assignment due in chemistry, and Jean completely forgot about it. When Mrs. Clark started around the classroom, he buried his face in his hands. It was so embarrassing, he was supposed to be a model student and he totally messed it up.

"Are you feeling okay?" It was Armin, of course, whispering beside him. He acted so concerned all of the time, it made him wonder if he was naturally like that or if there was some sort of lingering affection for the person that reminded him of his dead friend. It seemed more likely that the first reason was it, after how he had been acting towards him. It was hard to imagine that he could possibly have any special fondness towards him whatsoever. His completed pape laid on the table, and he looked at it forlornly.

Still, he should really answer. Not doing so might be too harsh. "I forgot to do the paper, no big deal." He admitted, before remembering himself and adding. "Not that it's any of your business."

Armin didn't say anything else after that, and Jean felt his usual pang of guilt. The kid was just so fragile, with his delicate little emotions and blue eyes and blonde hair. He reminded him of a doll. there was a brief rustling of paper and the scratching of a pencil, but he ignored it, more focused on the fact that he was destroying his reputation in his third week of school. He had seen enough teachers to know that the beginning of the year was when you had to try the hardest, because the teachers would judge you for it for the rest of the year. Of course, it was already too late though.

"Armin, you didn't get it done?" Mrs. Clark asked, not unkindly. There was a disappointed sort of tone to her voice, and Jean was immediately confused. He had _seen_ him pull the paper out, he had it. He put down his hands and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Armin kicked him under the table. He looked down at the paper that was obviously sitting on the table, and found that not only had it been pushed over next to Jean, his name was written at the top in Armin's neat, organized handwriting. even though hr knew that he should probably say something, he needed to get that turned in _today_ and if Armin wanted to risk his grade for him, then why should he object? It was his own choice.

He kept his mouth shut until Mrs. Clark had taken the paper and left. "What was that? You can't just give people your assignment because you want to be nice. It doesn't work that way." Jean whispered harshly. He was getting really sick of this being nice to him bullshit. It was fine to be polite, but giving him assignments? It was going way to far. Self sacrificing and polite were different, and he had crossed a line that he shouldn't even _want_ to cross.

"Why not? You didn't get it done and I don't care if mine is late." Armin sounded almost bored with the conversation. It was weird, he was kind of a nerd, he should care almost as much as Jean about getting his stuff in on time.

He was dumbfounded. "Because you'll make a bad impression on teachers. They'll think you're a slacker." It really didn't seem that difficult to understand.

"Well even if they do, it won't matter for long anyway." He waved a hand carelessly.

When he said it, Jean felt a strange lurch in his stomach that he couldn't make sense of. It was like someone else was reacting instead of him. He quickly spoke up. "What do you mean?"

"Please, Jean, I'm practically a genius. I could leave school for a month with no reason and the teachers would all still love me." The explanation came out fast. Almost too fast to be believe able, but what other reason could there be? His answer didn't really do anything to ease the unpleasant feeling inside, but he decided it didn't really matter. If he was so confident in himself then he must have a reason. Besides, it had nothing to do with him. His reputation was intact. Nothing else should matter.

* * *

Of course, that wasn't really true, and he knew that deep down. Armin was acting weird, and since he had decided to try and protect him, anything out of the ordinary that might happen was a concern. Still, he didn't say anything to Mikasa, and he didn't go out of his way to keep an eye on him. The way he saw it, the whole thing wasn't a very big deal. Armin could do wierd stuff and not be a problem. He just needed to pay a little more attention.

Three weeks later his concern was triggered once again. Armin missed chemistry completely, which wasn't that big of a deal. People got sick, and that seemed like the most likely reason. Later though, when he went to acting he was surprised to see that the little blonde was actually there. He didn't say anything, but Marco did when he came in, and Armin explained that he had accidentally slept in and missed first hour. It wasn't anything to be worried about, sometimes people did that. The concerning thing happened toward the middle of class when they got their normal five minute break.

"Hey, Jean!" Came the familiar voice of his (reluctantly so) favorite aryan coconut.

It was normal for them to talk during acting class. Everyone was closer there. People who would never talk normally got along like lifelong friends, so it wasn't at all unusual to talk during the break.

"Yeah?" He was a interested now that he saw the boy, arm behind his back and holding a plastic bag.

"I have something for you."

Now that _was_ unusual. People didnt just give each other gifts at random. Most people probably wouldn't give each other presents on their birthdays, not unless they were close friends outside this class. Or maybe if that person was Marco. Still, they were basically strangers. They never even saw each other outside of class if you didn't count that first day of school, which he didn't.

"Why?" He inquired, genuinely confused.

"Because I'm nice." He stated flatly, holding out a plastic bag. "Here, they don't fit me, so you can have them." His tone didn't match the situation at all, and he remembered that day at his house when he had been acting weird like this.

Jean felt a familiar coldness in the pit of his stomach as he pulled out a gray T-shirt and a pair of Deadpool pajama bottoms, along with two pairs of jeans, much nicer than what he had.

"Armin, don't these belong to..." He wasn't sure he wanted to even bring up his name, but it was futile anyway. He knew whose clothes he was giving away, and obviously had been expecting the question.

"I _knew_ it. She told you." Armin's voice was somewhere between accusing and teasing. "Well, it's my choice and he was my friend. Really, I can remember him well enough without some old clothes that I can't even wear. They fit you, take them."

"But he's _dead_, isn't it a little weird to be giving away his clothes?" Jean felt a little uncomfortable even talking about the clothes, he couldn't imagine actually wearing them.

"To be perfectly honest, seeing them is a little depressing. I mean he can't ever wear them again. If you have them then it'll be like you just happen to have the same shirt, and I won't even notice the pants. It would be better if I didn't have to see them every time I got something out of the closet." He explained, eyes still dead. It was as unsettling as last time.

He felt like he should argue more, but he couldn't really think of anything to say. "Are you sure? I mean it's not like he's getting any new clothes."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He shrugged. "Anyway, we should probably get back to class. our break must be close to over by now." He was probably right, so they went together back to the room.

* * *

They didn't really talk for the rest of the hour, and as soon as the bell rang for the end of class Armin ran out the door. It felt too weird, it was just filling him with an unshakeable weird feeling in his gut. He didn't want to say anything to Mikasa, she might get mad at him and think he wasn't pretending to not care about him anymore, and getting beat up wasn't on his to do list. He wanted to avoid it if he could help it. The next best thing he could think of was to ask Marco about it. The two weren't exactly friends, but they got along well enough.

"Hey Marco, come here for a second." He called.

The tall freckled boy was almost out the door, but he spun around with an almost amusing gracefulness and walked over. He always had that bounce in his step, it was nice to be around him really. He was a little reluctant to bring up Armin at all, it might make him sad, and a sad Marco just seemed too weird. "Yeah, Jean?"

He decided to just jump into it. "I'm worried about Armin. He's acting really wierd, I mean he just gave me a bag full of Eren's clothes. I told his mom and Mikasa that I would look out for him, but I don't know him that well. How weird is it for him to just give away something that belonged to Eren?"

As he suspected, Marco's face dropped. His frown was very unbecoming. "Well, really weird actually. He was always with Eren when he was alive, and he would take anything of his that he could get After he died. Stuff to remember him by. He's pretty sentimental. I mean it's possible for him to be trying to move on, but it's unlikely."

That was the answer he had been dreading. He decided to reach out a little farther, though he knew he was really just grasping at straws. "Then what do you think is wrong? There must be something."

"I don't know, but I think it would be best if you watched out for him. Tell Mikasa about it, she needs to know."

Why did Marco have to be so nice and perfect all the time? He was always so worried about other people. Armin did that too, but Marco was like the amplified version, and it seemed so much more natural. "Thanks." Was all he said, knowing deep down that there was no way he would tell Mikasa. Plus, they didn't have school tomorrow, and that was Friday. He didn't know any way to contact her outside of school even if he wanted to.

"You know, you're a good guy Jean. Not many people would care so much about someone they just met." And with that he wrapped his arms around Jean in one of the best hugs he had ever experienced, and left.

* * *

That night Jean couldn't sleep at all. He was worried about Armin, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Well, he knew why, but not why he was worried to the degree that he was. He did hope he was just over reacting, but Marco's reaction had confirmed that his worry was valid. There was something wrong and he needed to find out what it was.

* * *

**So I kind of cut this chapter in two because it was getting really long and it was taking forever. Sorry for the wait (17 days!) but the next chapter shouldn't take as long. I won't make any promises because finals are right around the corner. Yeah, so don't forget to review. Reviews mean I'm excited, and if I'm excited then my new chapters will be better and come faster. So REVIEW! I hope you all liked it, and have a nice day.**


	4. Pure Luck

**Trigger warning, (SPOILER ALERT) talk of depression and suicide, as well as drunkenness.**

* * *

Jean spent hours tossing and turning in bed that night, and with his father working the double night shift again (Apparently that was his work schedule until further notice) he didn't figure it would matter if he took a walk to get him more tired. Still, he wasn't overly convinced that it was a good idea, it would be better if he could just fall asleep.

It was just past midnight when he finally decided to just go out and do it. He was bored out of his mind just laying here and staring at the ceiling. He put on his warmest pair of sweatpants, a long sleeved shirt, and his jacket and stepped outside, only to find that it had heated up considerably during the day, and was now warm and muggy, with a pleasant, but strong wind rustling the leaves of the trees in the neiborhood. He normally would have just changed his mind and laid back down because of that, but tonight he felt some sort of driving force beneath his restlessness.

He went back inside his pathetic excuse for a house, and changed back into his clothes from that day, pulling them out of the hamper to find them only slightly wrinkled. He still brought the jacket just in case, but he seriously doubted that he would have any real need of it tonight.

Jean had been blessed with a remarkable sense of direction and a knack for remembering directions, so it was very rare for him to get lost. It was a good talent to have when you moved from city to city all the time, and it made him much more comfortable with going on walks. Because of that, he allowed himself to wander around, not really caring where he went. He knew enough to recognize places and people that he should stay away from, but other than that he just kept walking, not overly concerned with where he'd end up.

_This is really a pretty nice town. Not too big, not too small, just right. _Jean thought as he walked. He had been to plenty of too big towns, where no one knew each other and you always had to wait a long time to be able to cross the street. It seemed now that everyone was asleep, although there was the occasional car passing by. Of course, it _was_ midnight on a Thursday, and he could presume that most people had to go to work in the morning. He was pretty happy about the teacher work day. It gave him a chance to relax, roam the city, and do something other than study for once. He would probably still do some studying, it seemed like he couldn't make it through a day without doing some form of work, but still, he could at least have an extra day to fit in all the studying he needed done, which meant a lot more free time, and by god he was going to use it.

He passed by several streets lined with cute little houses, darkened with the lack of any source of light but the lamp posts that stood in each yard. They weren't as bright as street lights, but it was nice in a way, what with the old timey feel they gave off. This was probably an older part of town, and well maintained too, by the looks of it. Areas like this had always been his favorite, it made him feel like he had stepped out of a time machine to some place where no one knew his name or his face, and he could start over and work his way up to being rich. It was funny how all his fantasies revolved around that, and sometimes it made him wonder if he was really a terrible person, but at least he had the motivation to achieve his dreams.

Once he got out of the residential areas and back onto the streets he came to a wide open lot with a bridge on the side furthest away from him. It wasn't a very long bridge, though it was high up, and at the moment it looked like it was deserted. It looked like everything was deserted around here really. There were no stores or restaurants, just a few buildings in ill repair that were scattered around in a disorderly fashion, and railroad tracks on the ground, branching off in a few different places to create paths as confused, and sad, and desolate as the buildings that he now assumed were abandoned factories. With their many chimneys and industrial simplicity he couldn't imagine what else they might be.

Even the bridge, made of rusting crisscrossed metal, looked sad and lonely out here, like no one ever came by it. The road was cracked and there were no sidewalks, and he felt it was safe to guess that not many people used the bridge. Maybe they had given it up in favor of the bridge down the river. It was visible from here, with lights across the length of it, and lower down to the ground. It was across a wider part of the river and it seemed like it stretched on forever, magnificent as it spread across the water. Jean couldn't help but think that it was unfair. This bridge was shorter, and the water was deeper. Down at the other bridge it was more like a glorified puddle, which he knew because he had gone over it with Claire on that first day of school. Here at least it was passable as a river, even if it was shallow. Here at least you couldn't see the bottom through the muddy water. That might not be entirely true, it was dark and he couldn't see that well, the water looked black to him. Still, it looked like it was deeper, if only by the way the water moved at the top and the sound that it made.

He continued on his way down the road, determined to walk this bridge in simple defiance of the way it had been consigned to oblivion. It wasn't until he had already put one foot on the bridge that he saw the person in the middle of it, and stopped right where he was.

* * *

They were sort of hunched over, leaning on one of the metal braces In shorts and a hoodie. They (it looked sort of like a girl, but at this distance in the dark it was hard to tell) seemed strangely fitting in this place. Alone, forgotten, and small compared to the vast emptiness around them and the blackness of the water below. It looked to him like they were just watching the water, and he sort of wondered why he just stood here and watched them like they were some kind of rare and endangered bird that he might scare away, but he found that he couldn't bring himself to move forward even if he wanted to. So instead he just watched, hoping that they wouldn't see him and think he was some sort of creep.

It felt like ages before they moved. They turned so that they were looking at the road away from Jean, and he ducked behind one of the many metal bracings before they could look the other way and see him. He peeked at them around the edge as they did just that, and then they did something he wasn't at all prepared for. Slowly, and carefully, they climbed up over the rails on the side of the bridge so that they were standing in the middle of a V created by the crisscrossing pieces of metal. They looked sort of serene and peaceful up there, and for a second his initial alarm went away. Maybe they just liked standing up there, he didn't know.

Of course, that only lasted for a moment before they took a small step forward, their toes now over the empty air. There really wasn't enough room behind them to justify going forward any more, and they weren't holding onto anything either. This wasn't just someone enjoying a nice view of the river, they were clearly about to jump.

Jean didn't really know how he managed to move so quickly, but before he knew what he was doing he had run up onto the bridge right behind the person, reached out and grabbed them by the shoulders, and dragged them backwards up and over the railing. They landed on top of him, squirming to get out of his grip, but he held them tight. It wasn't particularly hard to do, since they were small and not very strong.

"_What the hell were you thinking?_!" He heard himself shout in a voice far more panicky than he had ever heard himself sound before.

"Jean?"

The voice was all too familiar to him, and he immediately dropped his arms, completely stunned. "Armin? What the hell?" He spluttered, trying and failing to form some kind of coherent thought. He had known that something was up, but this wasn't at all what he had been thinking, and he had _certainly_ not been expecting to _know_ the person he pulled away from the edge of a bridge. It wasn't like he could just walk away now either, he had just prevented a suicide attempt for christ sake, it was too dangerous to just leave him here. Oh god, but he was supposed to be staying away from him and not showing signs of personal attachment. This probably counted as at least one of those, and it overstepped the boundaries that he had set for himself by a long shot. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?! Don't pull shit like that, you'll get hurt!"

"Jean, that was kind of the whole point. I don't jump off bridges for fun you know." Armin said in a surprisingly matter of fact voice. Although he had stopped struggling he still laid on top of Jean, and he reeked of alcohol. It was hard to tell if he was crying or not, because there was a slight slur to his words that could either be from mumbling or drunkenness. It seemed more likely to be the latter.

"You still can't do that, dumbass. What would make you think that was okay?" He didn't mean to be harsh, but it was hard not to be. He was angry. First that little shit had decided to just kill himself and make everyone else miserable, and on top of that he was drunk.

Ever since Jean was a child he couldn't remember his mother being sober. He remembered the smell and the way she behaved, telling him openly what a mistake he had been and how he had ruined her and his father's life by forcing them to support someone else before they could even graduate. She had died of alcohol poisoning five years ago, and the mere presence of any drunk person was enough to set him off. Of course, this drunk person was a sixteen year old boy whose best friend died and who was constantly picked on who had just tried to kill himself, so punching him in the face probably wasn't the best course of action, but even while keeping his actions under control, being nice wasn't easy.

"What makes you think it isn't okay, huh?" Armin retorted. "You just didn't think you would see something like that happening. It's not like it would really matter to you otherwise. I mean I'm useless, weak, defenseless, I look like a girl. Did I forget anything?"

He didn't seem to be in a hurry to get off of him, so Jean shoved him to the side, struggling to make sure he was gentle about it. "You know, you're really an insensitive dick, aren't you? There are people who care about you. Do you think they want to have you die? Especially after what happened to Eren. You can't just jump off a bridge and expect it to solve everything, it'll hurt other people."

"Oh yeah, and I'm an insensitive dick. I think that about covers it." He nodded thoughtfully. "Not as big of one as you, of course. You didn't know Eren at all. You have no right to bring it up." Armin's voice was filled with an uncharacteristic cruelness that made Jean feel incredibly uneasy. "Now if you don't mind leaving, I was kind of in the middle of something."

It was hard to believe this was really happening. Who knows, maybe it wasn't. Maybe all of this was just some sick, twisted, nightmare. "Armin, I'm not letting you do that. I'm not a _completely_ heartless bastard you know."

His attempt at humor was entirely wasted on the other boy, who gave him a steady cold look. "Why do you care? It's not like you were here last year when he died." Armin didn't need to explain who 'he' was, it was obvious that this whole thing had to do with Eren. "You didn't see anything that happened. You didn't watch your friend die right in front of you. You don't know anything." He pushed himself back to his feet, swaying unsteadily as he put a hand on his hip. Somehow it seemed that once he was standing he went back to his normal self. Friendly, and timid, like he needed to be sure that he didn't hurt anyone in any way. "And you can't stop me either. You don't have to feel bad about anything Jean, not about not doing something sooner, and not about letting me just do this. I would be crazy to blame you for any of it, so don't blame yourself or anyone else. It was going to happen anyway, eventually. I mean look at me."

There was something about the way his voice shook and the way his comforting smile crumpled at the end of his sentence, so that it was nothing more than someone fighting crying right at the very end, when it was too late, that broke him. He couldn't be mad at him for drinking. Not really. Hell, that was probably the only way he was able to work himself up to do this. He was trying so hard to pretend to be happy. He'd probably been doing it since Eren died, and he really didn't deserve it. He knew he didn't know him very well, but no one deserved that. Plus, he had been trying all this time to shut himself off from everyone so he wouldn't hurt them. He was so careful with other people, even when he was purposefully destroying himself. Maybe that was the real reason he didn't talk to Mikasa. If she was as close to him as it sounded, completely shutting her out was probably the only way he could think of to try to keep from hurting her.

"I'm sorry. I really really am, I just have to. You don't know what it's like." He was almost pleading as he stepped back toward the railing, trying to right some imagined wrong that he had done before he went.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Jean shook his head as he got up, wrapping his arms around the other in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "I'm not letting you over the edge of that bridge, it's just not happening. I'll take you home, how does that sound? You can sleep this off and then we'll talk about the whole thing." He didn't really know how this whole comforting thing worked exactly. He wasn't exactly known for his social prowess.

Armin began to shake against him, finally giving himself up to tears. It was hard to tell wether he was crying because he was sad, or because he had thought he had a way out and all his hopes had been shattered. Jean just held him tight while the sobs wracked his body, stroking his head from time to time for lack of anything else to do. It seemed caring enough, but he didn't really know how to this was supposed to work. by the time he finally nodded and pulled away, the front of Jean's shirt was soaked in what he hoped was mostly tears. He wasn't really too enthusiastic about having snot all over him, no matter what the circumstance. After a brief moment in which Armin cleaned himself up a little, wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve, they began walking back in the opposite direction of where Jean had come from. Thankfully Armin was still coherent enough to know where he lived and how to reach it. He probably didn't want to get lost on his way to the bridge, and that was why he hadn't drunk too much. Leave it to him to calculate just how drunk he needed to be to do what he wanted without screwing it up.

* * *

It wasn't really that long a walk before they got to his house. All the lights were out, which wasn't terribly surprising given the time. It must be close to two o'clock in the morning by now, but it still sparked his curiosity. "Armin, where are your parents? Didn't they notice that you snuck out?" His mom had seemed like the kind of person who would notice that kind of thing anyway, he hadn't actually met his dad yet. He had been at work or something when Jean had come here last.

"They left for the weekend, they'll be gone until Sunday night. I planned this whole thing out pretty well. I _am_ half a genius, remember?" So a little bit of humor, that at least was a good sign. Still, he should probably stay here for tonight at least. Armin couldn't be allowed to stay at home all alone. He had passed the point of being polite, it would be far more rude to let their son die than to invite himself to sleep over.

"So I guess they have tomorrow off work too." He said, trying to fill the silence while Armin unlocked the door, his hands unsteady enough that it took longer than it probably should have under normal circumstances.

"No, the trip is for work. Mom was going to stay here with me, but I told them it would be a good chance for some alone time. I'm responsible enough to be trusted, so they thought if be fine for one weekend. Wouldn't this be a surprise? Getting drunk and letting a strange boy into the house. I'd never hear the end of it." He muttered, as the door finally swung open. It was like he was telling a joke while he was sad, and it made it hard to tell if it was meant to be funny or not.

Besides, that seemed like an odd statement to begin with, coming from him. He wasn't a girl, no matter how much he looked like one, so coming home with another boy while they weren't home shouldn't be that bad, right? He had been friends with Eren, and Jean was pretty sure the two of them had spent the night at some point, if not on a regular basis. Then again, maybe he meant they that they would think he'd mess up the house, or take something. Really he couldn't blame them, this was a very nice house, and they weren't lacking for money and things to steal. He felt the familiar pang of jealousy and wanted to slap himself. He was now being jealous of some little girly boy who had just attempted to kill themself. He really needed to draw the line somewhere.

Armin continued. "Imagine the things that they would think we got up to. Well, don't imagine them too vividly, that might make things uncomfortable." The front entryway went straight into the living room, and Armin had left Jean behind and was now facing him leaning back precariously over the arm of the couch. "You're pretty handsome, you know. Do people tell you that often? because they really should. Even your eyes by themselves. They're just so pretty. I've never seen eyes like that."

Wait what? Was he completely misinterpreting the situation, or was Armin hitting on him? It wasn't like he would judge him for it or anything, he was too drunk for boundaries at this point, but he hadn't thought that the kid was gay. And at this given moment it seemed like he would be more apt to talk about how miserable his life was. Either way, in his experience most gay guys tried to seem at least a little bit manly so that people didnt... Well... treat them like they did Armin, he supposed. "Armin, it doesn't really matter either way, but are you gay?" He couldn't stop himself, he had to at least know for sure. He was never one to deal with curiosity, even at the most inappropriate times.

"You didn't know? I didn't think it was hard to figure out." He smirked. "You know, you're the first person who's been surprised. I don't know what I'm supposed to say about it. Should I comfort you and tell you I wont pull any moves on you? Be extra careful not to touch you? Maybe if I just let you leave. But you aren't leaving are you? I'm too high risk to be alone." Armin's ramblings became more and more confused as he went on. It would he funny if he didn't sound sad. Of course, given what had happened tonight, it would have been pretty weird for him to sound happy. It was already weird for him to be so busy talking about something irrelevant as sexuality though, so why couldn't it at least be a pleasant weirdness?

"Hey, it doesn't bother me or anything." He assured him. "I mean straight guys don't try to have sex with every single girl they come across, why would a gay guy be any different?" He was serious, it wasn't really a concern of his. "Besides," he tried to take on a more humerous tone, tonight they could use all the humor they could get. "I think we both know you couldn't overpower me."

Armin gave a small smile that looked faked, before letting himself fall backwards onto the couch cushions. "I'm sure we've had enough proof of that tonight."

He instantly felt uncomfortable, remembering the way he had held him as he struggled. Did he think that he was going to try to hurt him or something, or was it just desperation to get off the bridge before he could really be stopped?

"Do you need anything? Food, water, a toothbrush, anything at all?" This whole being friendly thing was pretty difficult for Jean. Not nearly as difficult as he had been expecting, but difficult nonetheless. He was so used to taking care of himself and only himself that even remembering to ask things like that was hard, but he wanted to change the subject anyway, he wasn't sure if either of them were ready to talk about what had happened tonight just yet.

"I'd rather just go to sleep, if that's okay with you." It was strange, he wasn't even being rude about it, he was literally asking permission to sleep.

"Yeah, of course. I completely understand." It was true, he had been around his mom to know that sleeping it off was sometimes the best thing to do. The thought of her brought back another wave of rage, and with it his usual violent urges. Only with a great amount of willpower was he able to control it. Violence would not help this. Beating up a drunk, suicidal teenager half his size wouldn't solve anything at all, it would probably just make the situation worse. No, probably was too weak a word. There was literally no possible way that it would make this better.

Armin, who had lifted up his head so he could look at him, had apparently noticed it though. "You're mad at me aren't you? I can see it, your fist is all clenched like you're gonna hit something." His voice was so steady that it was like he was sober, but the fact that he had pointed out behavior that could possibly cause conflict gave him away. He would never have done that normally.

"I just..." He trailed off, not sure how to put it so it didn't seem like he was trying to make this about him. Even _he_ could see that would be one of the worst things he could do, and he was prone to saying horrible things without ever thinking they were bad. "I don't do well around drunk people." He finished, hoping his abruptness would shut down any more investigation on that front.

Luckily it seemed that Armin was too distracted by the obvious. "So you noticed that, did you?" He asked, flopped his head back down on the couch. "I didn't think it was that noticeable."

"What? Of course I noticed. Plus you just said it yourself like a minute ago." His irritation was quickly replaced by worry. It wasn't exactly unusual for someone to forget something when they were drunk, but it just seemed so out of character for him, he was supposed to remember everything.

"Did I rea-"

"I think we should call it a night actually, you've been up long enough." He interrupted. It wasn't like he would remember him being rude well enough to say anything about it. "We can sleep out here in the living room. Do you have any pillows and blankets that we could use?"

"Of course, follow me." Armin stood with a surprising amount of speed and grace before leading Jean out of the room and down the hall that they had gone down last time he was here. When they reached the end of the hall they turned right, towards a set of stairs he hadn't seen the last time. He had kind of been wondering where they could possibly be, since he had seen most, if not all of the bottom floor. After all, there had to be stairs somewhere, it was clearly a two story house.

At the top of the stairs they turned left, into what he assumed must be Armin's bedroom. the walls were all pained in swirling shades of blue, with flecks of golden yellow peeking out here and there. It reminded him of some painting that he couldn't really remember the name of. On the wall opposite the door there was a bed (Far larger than his own, he couldn't help but notice) that was laden with far more pillows and blankets than any one bed could possibly need. He also noticed that the room was spotless, probably so that his family wouldn't have to clean it when he was gone. That realization hurt more than he had expected it to. He wasn't sure why he was so concerned with the kid, it really was none of his business. He was only staying here in an effort to be a decent human being, and because he didn't trust him not to try again if he left.

Jean was too lost in thought to notice that Armin had not accompanied him all the way to the bed, and turned around in confusion to find him. Before he could protest, Armin had backed him up against the bed, causing his knees to buckle as he fell onto it, still sitting. "What are yo-" he was cut off by the other boy pressing their lips together, being far more aggressive than Jean would have thought him capable of. He was sloppy, that was for sure. Not that he himself could brag about how great _he_ was, but it wasn't overly difficult to recognize it. Of course, part of it could have been the alcohol, which was the only thing allowing him to be this forward in the first place.

He tried to be gentle as he pushed the boy away. "You really need some sleep Armin, let's just grab some of these and go downstairs, okay?"

Armin seemed a little put out, but grabbed two blankets and a pillow, which was the exact opposite of Jean, who had chosen a single blanket, although it was a thick one, and two cushy pillows. He didn't really understand why what had just happened didn't bother him. Maybe he just understood that he didn't fully know what he was doing. There was no other reasonable explanation, it wasn't like he was gay or anything, he didn't have the time or energy to waste on that kind of thing. It was a distraction, and he couldn't afford distractions if he wanted to go anywhere in life. He had always just assumed he was straight as a default, never letting himself get close enough to someone to even begin to feel attracted to them. It wasn't really out of the question-

_No, you're straight as a board. Why are you even thinking about that, you're supposed to be helping Armin to not kill himself, remember?_ He shook his head, as if that could clear his head. "Okay, so you get to sleep on the couch." He told Armin, who immediately protested.

"Then where are you going to sleep? We don't have anything else down there." He had snapped back to reality enough to realize that, at least.

"I'm sleeping on the floor, I want to be able to know if you're getting up. I don't trust you." He shrugged. "You have a nice, soft, carpet, i could find worse places to sleep." Me he had, many times. He had slept on the wooden pews in a church for nearly a month once, when his dad had lost his job. They had four dollars and the clothes on their back, and nothing else.

"But you're a _guest_." He protested halfheartedly. It was clear that he wanted sleep more than he wanted to argue.

"A guest who prefers to sleep on the floor. You're on the couch, no arguing." He only added the last part so that Armin wouldn't feel socially obligated to continue this whole thing, and he was happy when he didn't say anything else.

* * *

It didn't take long for them to set up their sleeping areas, and by the time Jean was finished with his, Armin was already done and watching him With a strange look in his eyes.

"Hey, are you feeling okay? You're just drunk, right? No extra stuff to worry about?" It was a legitimate question, but as soon as he asked it he was worried about sounding rude. At the moment he was extra sensitive to his own rudeness, he didn't want to make the already emotionally unstable boy any worse.

"I'm okay. Well, not okay okay, but okay. You know what I mean?"

Jean was proud to be able to say that yes, he knew exactly what that meant. before he could say anything though, a pair of slender arms wrapped themselves around his neck, their owner sliding off of the couch to sit in his lap on the floor. He saw it coming this time, but he didn't do anything to stop it when Armin's lips moment with his own. It seemed that he had figured out what he was doing last time, because this time the kiss was actually, and he hated to say it, _pleasant_. It was what he imagined that a kiss was supposed to be like. Of course, when Armin's tongue pressed against his lips he decided that he was letting this go way too far.

"Armin, you don't really want to do this. You're drunk and emotional right now, and adding this won't make anything better. You just need to lay down and get some rest, okay?" Armin frowned at him, but climbed back onto the couch and was already asleep by the time Jean got himself situated in his own spot on the floor. It reminded him of a toddler in a way.

He had been right about the floor being comfortable, and the events of the night had worn him out enough that he would have no trouble going to sleep. Still, one thought kept him up. What exactly was going on between him and Armin? He had enjoyed that last kiss more than he should have. Armin's lips, soft against his own. How his lips had been left with the weirdest taste of apple cider afterwards. The feel of that silky hair between his fingers, and the thin fingers tangling themselves in his own hair.

No. He couldn't really be thinking about that, it was ridiculous. The whole thing was meaningless, he knew that. It was a simple matter of lowered inhibitions and miscommunication. Armin probably wouldn't even remember it in the morning, and it would be better if he just forgot about it too.

It was with those thoughts that he finally went to sleep.

* * *

**Hey so I cut this in half again, which means that this chapter, the last chapter, and the next chapter were all originally going to be one big super chapter. You can see why I broke it down, right? Anyway, I hope you liked it, there was some serious angst and fluff in there but altogether I hope it was good. Please remember to review. I am a huge review beggar, and if I don't get reviews I don't get the motivation and you don't get the story, and since seven of you are officially following it, I think it's safe to assume that you want it to keep going, right? So good or bad, tell me what you thought of it. Do you want me to put in a cute little fluff moment? It'll probably happen! Just give me your compliments, criticisms, and ideas. It really makes my day. That was a really long author's note, sorry. Bye friends.**


	5. Broken

**Trigger warning, talk of depression and suicide. Same as last time but a little more in depth. Like really seriously please don't read this if it could be triggering to you, your well being is more important than the story.**

* * *

Jean blinked his eyes open to find himself face to face with none other than Eren the cat. It was so startling that he jumped backwards, hitting his head on the corner of the couch painfully. It took him a second to even register where he was and why that blasted fur ball was here. "What the hell, give me some space." He grumbled, shoving the little brown cat away from him carelessly. It didn't feel like moving apparently, because it just sat down, right out of his reach and watched him. Damn cat. What was its problem anyway? "Why are you looking at me like that? I saved your owner. What more do you want?"

The cat meowed loudly, but walked away, tail swishing back and forth like it was annoyed with him. This is why he hated cats, they always acted so superior. He'd like to see them try to pick up a pencil, the thumbless little bastards.

He looked back over to the couch, where Armin's head had become a complete mess of blonde hair. He had never seen it so messy, and he wondered if he was one of those people who could just run their fingers through it and have it look all nice. He rand one hand throughout it in an attempt to flatten it out, and was pleased to find that his suspicion was correct, and to top it off it was as soft as he had imagined that it would be last night. Not that he had actually _imagined_ it, but he had thought that it was probably soft. It looked soft?

Fuck. That little asshole had made him think gay thoughts. He _wasn't_ gay. That would be ridiculous. It would imply that he had time to think about his sexuality, which he definitely didn't. He _did_ have time to make some breakfast though, and he was starving, so it seemed like a good idea to get that started. If he actually had to cook something he might even save some for Armin in a totally not gay gesture of common decency.

* * *

It looked like all the breakfast food they had in the kitchen (at least, the stuff that sounded easy and good or really made any sense at all to him) was pancake mix, so he decided to go with that. He sincerely hoped that Armin liked pancakes too, because he accidentally got way too much of the batter and was too lazy to even attempt to get any of it back in the box. Maybe they could eat pancakes for lunch. No sooner than he had poured the mix into the bowl and measured out the proper amount of water, the shorter boy came into the room.

"Oh god, you're making us breakfast. Don't you think that's kinda my job, you know, being the host and all." He groaned, grabbing a carton of orange juice out of the fridge. He walked over to the cupboard where Jean had found the glasses a few minutes ago when he had searched the kitchen for a mixing bowl and a pan, and pulled out a small plastic glass. "Not that I invited you over or anything, you did that yourself. Very rude thing to do, by the way." He continued, pouring himself a glass and then shrugging and getting a second. "Wait a second, I didn't invite you over last night, did I? I really don't think I did."

Of course he didn't remember it. "No, you didn't. I was a good samaritan and decided to help you in your time of need. You're welcome." He took a swig of the orange juice that he presumed was for him. Who else could it have been for, the cat? "So, how much do you remember from last night?"

"Well, we were walking home, and it looks like we got here okay. You let me sleep on the couch, which is very chivalrous of you by the way, and it looks like we stole blankets and stuff from my room." His face turned all pink and he didn't seem to be able to make eye contact, not that that was unusual for him. "Did I try to…" He trailed off, his face turning even more red. "You know…. Do anything while we were in there?"

Jean didn't really want to deny it, in case it came up later somehow and Armin discovered that he had been lying and thought way more happened than what really did. Instead of just saying no or pretending not to know what he was talking about, he pretended to be very absorbed in his task of stirring all the lumps out of the batter with his fork. "Ah, well it was nothing. You just kissed me and you didn't really know what was going on anyway so it was no big deal."

As it seemed, that had been a bad decision. The blonde sunk to the floor, leaning against the counter with his legs curled up to his chest and his face in his hands. "Oh my god."

"Hey, really it's fine. I've had lot's of experience with drunk people. You had zero boundaries at the time, it didn't mean anything. Besides, I told you to stop and you did right away. That's a lot more than can be said for a lot of people." He poured a little bit of the batter out onto the pan as he spoke, attempting to calm him with his words of wisdom.

That made Armin cover his whole head up. "Oh my _god._" it was muffled by his body, but still distinguishable, and Jean almost had to stifle his laughter. He was sort of cute when he was all flustered. Like in an adorable little puppy way, of course. _  
_

It seemed like a good time to change the subject now though. "So…" He was sort of hesitant to even talk about it, but he had to know, and it would certainly get Armin out of his current state of embarrassment over kissing him. "Why did you want to… You know. Why were you at the bridge?" He turned away to check the pancake and see if it was ready to flip. It wasn't, but he didn't look at Armin. He wanted to offer him what privacy he could what with them being in the same room. The silence stretched on for a moment and he added. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but we have to do it at some point. Whenever you're ready for it, okay?"

"Well that won't be for a while then." He sounded more embarrassed than before, if that was even possible, but there was a sort of cold distance to it as well. Not that it mattered really, he would be fine. Jean wasn't letting him out of his sight, not for a while anyway. They could talk about it after breakfast or after lunch, whenever it was most convenient. He didn't really know how long he would stay with him. He still had all of today and the rest of the weekend to do anything, and it wasn't as if they could go over to _his_ house.

They just sort of stayed like that for a while, the silence stretching out between them until all the pancake batter was gone and Jean had a plate full of pancakes. "Take all you want, I'll eat the rest. He told Armin, as he walked to the sink to rinse his hands off. He had already separated out enough for later, and if the blue eyed boy left too many he could set them aside as well. His hands weren't dirty per say but they had a little bit of the batter on them and he didn't really want to eat his breakfast with sticky pancake hands.

"Jean, I'm sorry for being rude to you. I have no right to do that, you've been nothing but nice to me." He had walked up behind him while the water was running, and leaned his head on his shoulder, as that seemed to be the perfect height for him. It startled Jean nearly enough to send the two plates Armin was holding flying as he whipped around, but Armin stepped away quickly enough to avoid him. Not that that really made him feel any better. That kind of thing only came with practice, and he didn't like to think about Armin having to move out of the way of flying objects or fists sent his way. He knew it happened, he'd have to be blind not to see it, but it would be nice not to be reminded all the time. "Sorry, that was my fault. I should have made more noise walking over here." Armin looked down almost like he was ashamed and held out a plate for Jean.

"No, I'm just a little jumpy sometimes. Thank you." He was trying to be nicer. More sensitive to his problems and stuff, but he felt like his kindness seemed really fake most of the time. He just wasn't used to it. "Plus, I've actually been kind of a dick to you these past few weeks. I mean it was on, purpose and I did try not to be outright mean, but I was still a dick."

That seemed to spark something in Armin. "Why were you being a dick to me on purpose? what kind of person does that?" He didn't sound too angry and Jean assumed that he was half past caring. More curious than hurt. He couldn't blame him, why would someone be a dick to someone on purpose unless they wanted to be outright mean? It wasn't exactly a normal situation.

"Well…" He felt like he shouldn't mention Mikasa's name for some reason. "A… Uh.. A person told me that I should't be friends with you… If I was going to move again." He stumbled out. "They said you couldn't lose another friend."

"Oh, so Mikasa threatened you." It wasn't even a question. "Why does she care what hurts me? I haven't talked to her in almost a year. I killed her brother." He got out the syrup and dumped it angrily over his pancakes, which was simultaneously adorable and heartbreaking. After a second or two, and way more syrup than he need ed he set down the bottle, looking tired and defeated. "I don't want her to care about me, Jean."

"Armin, she's not mad at you. She doesn't blame you for any of it. And besides, she's not the only one who cares. Marco does too."

"Marco cares too much for his own good. You can't seriously expect him to influence my decisions any, can you? I mean Marco probably cares about _you_ and you've only known him a few weeks." He argued. "I don't mean that in a mean way or anything, but he starts caring fast and he doesn't really stop, no matter what."

"He cared enough to notice something was wrong on Thursday." Jean pointed out, as if it made any difference. It was true enough, what Armin said. He knew it himself, even though he was new here. Marco cared about everyone. He was just that kind of person.

"So did you, but you don't care about me." Armin took a bite of pancake, watching him.

"No, I just pulled you from the edge of a bridge because I thought it would be a workout and thought I might as well mooch off of your plentiful food while I was at it. Really Armin, of course I care about you." He tried to keep the anger out of his voice. He knew Armin wasn't just acting like this for the fun of it, no more than Jean had come here to mooch what he could from the guy. Still, it was infuriating to see someone so…. He didn't know the right word for it. Armin was cute, and smart, and good at everything. Well, except maybe sports, but those didn't even matter to anyone. How could he just throw that all away? How could he think no one cared?

"First of all, you didn't know it was me when you pulled me back. Plus, you're mad at me right now. Why would you be mad unless I called you out on the truth?" He looked around and then seemed to give up, just sliding to the floor, sitting cross legged as he ate his pancakes.

It was hard to believe. "I'm mad at you because you want to throw all this away." He gestured openly around him. "You have a mom who loves you and cares about you. She asked me to look out for you, did she tell you that? You have a girl who you don't even talk to, who threatened to beat me up if I hurt you. You have a nice house, a fancy freaking cat! You are good at _everything_ and you're a genius, but you think it's worthless and you just want to escape." He set his pancakes down on the counter, getting down on one knee to look Armin in the eye. "You have no idea what I would give to have this. Yeah, Eren died. It's hard to lose someone you love, I know that, but you can't just give up. Not when you have this much going for you."

That seemed to make Armin livid. "You think I don't know all of that? That I don't know I'm being a selfish asshole? I would love to give all of this to someone. Hell, if you want it so much then I wish I could give it to you. I CAN'T HANDLE THIS." It was the first time he had heard Armin yell, and it caught him off guard. "Why do you think I tried to make them stop caring? Why do you think I waited until my parents were out of town? Why do you think I chose a bridge instead of doing it here where there was no way someone would stop me? I DON'T WANT TO HURT THEM! I DIDN'T WANT MOM AND DAD TO COME HOME AND FIND MY BODY. I WANTED IT TO BE AS PAINLESS AS POSSIBLE FOR EVERYONE."

"WELL MAYBE IT WOULD BE LESS PAINFUL IF YOU DIDN'T DO IT!" Jean glared at him, his amber eyes narrowed. "You can pretend to be selfless. That you try not to hurt anyone unless you have to, but the point still stands. If you would just toughen up and deal with it then no one would have to be hurt at all. You're a selfish little bastard and you don't deserve anything that you have."

"Maybe that's true, but I think you deserve exactly what you have. You're a cruel selfish prick who only cares about himself." Armin replied steadily, his face contorted in rage. "I know that you're poor. You don't have anything, and maybe that's how you're always going to be. It would certainly be fitting."

Jean almost lost his temper and punched him right there. Instead, he stood up and left the room. He was too angry to be helpful right now. He knew he had taken it too far. He had been outright mean, and he really shouldn't have, given the situation. Armin was fragile right now. Still, he hadn't exactly expected any form of retaliation. Armin had gone too far as well. Maybe even more so. It didn't matter, none of it did. Armin wasn't himself. Nothing that happened right now mattered at all. He needed to be patient with him. Try to be nice all the time and make sure it didn't seem like he was trying to be mean. Of course, kindness and patience were two of his weaker points. Having him talk someone out of suicide was like choosing Christa to get something off the top shelf at the store. He was more likely to drive him to it. He flopped down into one of the arm chairs in the living room, his appetite gone.

Of course, as usual Armin's self loathing made him think that Jean had done nothing bad enough to deserve the way he yelled at him, and he came out to the living room ready to apologize before even five minutes could have passed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You're just trying to help, and you're getting irritated with me. I get really annoying sometimes and I'm sorry, I won't yell at you again."

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't lose my temper with you, you aren't yourself." Jean countered. They both had enough to be sorry for.

"Well I'm not someone else." He looked out the window, lost in that same world that he so often was when Jean looked at him. He wondered what sort of thoughts filled his mind at times like that. Surely not happy ones, that would be too much to expect. Maybe he thought about death, or maybe it was Eren. Maybe it was both, and it really was a happy thing, because they would be together in thoughts like that. It wasn't exactly his idea of happy, but it could be Armin's.

"I promise not to yell at you again if you tell me what's up." Jean conceded. It was hard for him, agreeing not to let his anger through. It was his first reaction to anything he found upsetting, and as much as he knew that was bad, letting it go sounded almost impossible. Still, he would try, for Armin's sake. Yelling would make things worse than they already were, and they were bad enough as it was. He needed to be comforting.

"That sounds somewhat agreeable. Not exactly perfect or anything, but I have a feeling that it's the best deal I'm going to get." He glanced at Jean out of the corner of his eye, quirking his lips up into what was as close to a real smile as anything he had seen today.

"Well, you're gonna have to tell me at some point, otherwise I'll never leave." He quipped, watching Armin plop himself down on the edge of the couch that was closest to was nice to see that little glimmer of happiness, even if it was fake or temporary. It was like a ray of sunlight after a week of rain, and he hoped to keep it there as long as possible.

"Oh, in that case let me explain as quickly as possible." He giggled. It was nice to hear that giggle again, it was so rare now. "I'm just kidding, you can stay all day if you really want to. I mean, at this point it seems sort of stupid to try anything, you would stop me. I'm not promising I won't ever try again, but not this weekend."

"That's so comforting."

"But really, I'm serious Jean. You can't just expect this to change anything in the long run. Anyway, if you don't mind I was going to start my little story." He held up a hand before Jean could object. "As you know, Eren died last year. That was what set me off I guess. It was sort of my fault, he was coming to get me from that stupid forensics thing. I know that no one else blames me, but I do and that's what really matters. If no one knows that you got your leg chopped off but you, it won't make it grow back." It was a surprisingly good analogy that stopped Jean's argument before it could leave his mouth. "Basically he was dead to the world for three days, but on the last night he woke up. That happens sometimes with people, they wake up before they die. Like their body gives up and stops using all the energy to try to heal them, so they are able to regain consciousness. I don't know the whole thing, but that's as best as I can explain it."

Jean resisted the urge to laugh. Armin was still trying to explain how things happened even when talking about his dead, or at the time dying, friend. It was funny in a sort of morbid way. But then, the only way he could ever think that is by being the scum of the Earth, and he sort of was. His thoughts once again fell to Marco. Why couldn't he have been the one here instead? He would be so much better at this sort of thing. But thinking about that wouldn't change anything, so he pushed it from his mind so that he could actually listen without making an ass of himself for once.

"Anyway, he woke up, and he was pretending he was just fine. That was probably the worst part, because I wanted so badly to believe him, but the doctors had already told us that there was almost no chance that he would survive. It would have been too lucky to believe, for him to make it. He kept that up for a while though, and I almost decided to just trust him about it. He was always so strong willed, maybe if he wanted it bad enough then he would just live. Maybe he could actually be too stubborn to die. It would have been nice if that were true." He shook his head silently. "I guess I knew deep down that it wasn't going to happen though, because when he started saying goodbye to us I wasn't surprised. I was sad, but not surprised. He looked right at me and told me that none of it was my fault, and that he was a terrible driver to begin with, so it was inevitable." Jean couldn't help but remembering Mikasa say the exact same words, and he wondered for a moment if he was telling the truth. Maybe she wanted to believe it so badly that she just started pretending it was true. That or he really was bad. "He said he loved us both and that if either of us died too soon after him then he would bring us back to life so he could kill us again. He was always like that, rude and aggressive, but in a nice way. I begged him not to go, but it was too late and it wasn't like he could have stopped it anyway. He told me that I would have to get along without him now. Mikasa told him that she would take care of me, and he smiled at her." He focused his gaze on the ground, probably trying not to start crying. "That was the last thing he did. I took up all of that time, he didn't hardly get to talk to her. She was his sister, Jean. I took up all that time from his _sister_."

"Armin, you didn't know he was going to die right then, no one did. She would never be mad at you for that." He didn't really know that, Mikasa seemed quick to anger, honestly. Still, with the way she seemed to care about him it might be that she was incapable of being mad at Armin. It seemed possible.

"Anyway," The boy continued, ignoring him. "Ever since then it's been different. Of course it would be different, without him. He's been there for as long as I can remember him. I have more memories with him than my own parents. It's so hard, waking up each day and knowing I'll never see his face again. Knowing that he might not even have a face any moor. It's been almost a year, if it's not rotting right now it's because he's already done. The thing is, people used to talk to me when he was around, because they thought he was cool, so I was too as an extension of him. No one wanted to talk to me after it happened. Maybe they were afraid of bringing him up. Maybe I just wasn't interesting without him. It didn't really matter, at least they left me alone for the most part. Even when Eren was alive I would get beaten up, but for a while no one laid a hand on me. I guess people pitied me too much. It would be like beating up someone who was crippled. Unfair. Their pity wore off though, and before long it was back to normal. Well, sort of normal. People still didn't talk to me, but they were fine with beating me up. I didn't fight back. I never did, but now it was different. Everything was always different. I let them beat me up because I thought I deserved it, not because I was too scared to fight back. People started hating me. They knew I was gay, of course, and they would make fun of me all the time. They would say that I must be sad, with my boyfriend being dead. That was probably the worst thing. I loved him like a brother. Even thinking that we were…"

He trailed off and short silence followed, the only sound being a tired sigh from Armin.

"It was revolting. Luckily summer came though, and I was left alone. Too alone. No one called or texted, no one wanted to hang out with me. I was the broken one, I was fragile, the only good reason to be around me was to hurt me, and they weren't exactly going to call and ask a time and place to beat me up again. I would have killed myself back then, but my mom thought redecorating might be good for me, and that at least gave me something to live for. Getting rid of the spaces that reminded me of him and giving me something to occupy my time. It helped for a while, but now it just makes me sadder. All those things that reminded me of him are gone. Besides, it was more expensive then mom would admit, and it put a big dent in their retirement fund. I wish we hadn't done it now. After that was finished I just asked Marco to hang out. He was too nice to say no, and he kept me out of the house. It was nice, having someone around ilk that. Someone to confide in. It wasn't the same, but it was better than the rest of the summer had been, and it made mom happy to see me socializing. The thing is, everyone loves Marco, but he made sure to make time for me, even with everything he had going on. Of course, then I realized that we were starting to be friends, and at first that made me happy, but then I remember what happened to Eren and how it was all my fault and that could happen to Marco too. I stopped talking to him then. I think he thought that he did something wrong, but I couldn't tell him the real reason. He would worry about me, and I'm not worth worrying about. I'd rather him go through a week or so of uncertainty than who knows how long of worry."

Jean didn't bother objecting. Armin wouldn't believe that he was worth worrying about even if he did, so he might as well just wait until he was finished before trying. It was sad really, seeing someone like him this broken. Maybe Marco did start caring too fast, but Armin was hard not to care about. Jean made an effort never to care about anyone, and Armin had managed to work his way past all that. It didn't even have that much to do with Claire and Mikasa, he was pretty sure that even without them he would care a little, and this whole mess was certainly enough to make him care if he hadn't already.

"That's when I knew what I had to do. I couldn't keep making people care about me. I couldn't keep hurting them like that. I was being selfish staying here. So I started making plans. I could just crash my car. It would look like an accident that way. But deep down I knew I wasn't strong enough for that. Not after Eren. I'm scared of driving as it is, and I'm so overcautious that it might not look that accidental anyway. So what was my next option? Cutting myself was too messy, plus it would hurt. I mean, I've done it before, don't get me wrong, but not that deep. I don't think I could make myself go even close to deep enough, and then once again we have all that mess. I don't want mom and dad to have to clean that up. Of course, that meant shooting myself was completely out of the question, although I think that would be easiest. I had it down to three choices. I could overdose, hang myself, or jump off a bridge. I eliminated hanging pretty fast though, strangling just seemed too unpleasant. Too slow. I'm not exactly tough, and even if I let people hurt me, it doesn't mean I could inflict that much pain on myself. I hadn't officially decided how or when I would do it until dad told me he would be out of town. I convinced mom to go with him and I decided on last night. I didn't want to have too long to reconsider. That being the case, I didn't want to overdose though. I didn't want them to have to find me decaying, or even partially eaten. Eren learned how to open doors and he's a cat so meat is meat to him. So that's it. I would jump. Maybe if no one noticed my body might even get to the ocean. It's not _that_ far, and I always wanted to see the ocean. Not that I would see it if I was dead, but it would be sort of poetic I guess. Me and Eren talked about it since before they even adopted Mikasa. Like it or not, I do have a certain appreciation for that sort of thing. Plus, I'm the only one left who really even knows about it, so no one else would think anything of it. I don't want them to think I'm that much of a pretentious douchebag. I planned out everything. I even told Marco that I was going to be out of town and asked him If he could come by and check on the cat every night, so he wouldn't starve." He glanced up from the floor for a moment and added. "I already told him that it got cancelled so he didn't need to come, if you're worried about that."

He was right, Jean was worried about that. He didn't want Marco to just drop by and assume that something was going on between them. Not that it would matter if he did, given the situation that should be the last thing on his mind. This whole thing was more important to him, even if his wandering mind was trying to prove him otherwise.

"Anyway, I didn't plan on you being there, so none of it really matters. I failed. I'm still here, making people care, being selfish. I deserve to die. I really do, but you won't just let me." Armin bit his lip, tears finally starting to flow. To be perfectly honest, Jean was surprised that he had lasted this long without breaking down. He supposed he might just be too far gone to care. Not really sad about his own misfortune anymore. "Why can't you just let me go? You know what happened now, so if it's because you feel bad then you should really feel worse keeping me here. You heard what I told you, I want to die."

"I can't just let you give up. You'll make it past this. You have to just keep going, Eren would want you to keep going. He said he didn't want you to die early himself, didn't he?" Jean knew it was a little risky, bringing up Eren's wishes. He hadn't known the guy, and he didn't want it to seem like he was being presumptuous.

"He would want me to be happy, that's what he would want, and if being happy means dying and being with him, then he would be okay with it. He wouldn't prefer for me to suffer. He wasn't like that." Armin mumbled, half to himself.

"He wouldn't want you to leave Mikasa all alone though, would he? He cared about her too, and like it or not she still cares about you. She needs you Armin, even if you don't talk to her. She needs to protect you, it makes her feel like she has some sort of value as a person. She let Eren down, but she won't do the same to you. If you go through with this you'll devastate her."

"You don't know anything about her. She would be better off without me here." Armin argued, turning away. The tears still dripped down his face, though he tried to hide it.

"You know that I'm right. Mikasa would break. She's being strong for you right now. And even if you don't care about her, think of Marco. He would blame himself. He already thinks that whatever made you stop hanging out with him was his fault. What would he do? How do you think he would feel, knowing that he spent all that time feeding a dead boy's cat, and never even thinking something might be wrong. How do you think he would feel? What if it made him feel the same way that you do now? Would you feel nothing, seeing him like that?" He got up from his place in the armchair and walked over to the couch sitting beside the other boy, so small and helpless. "You're important to people, Armin. You really are. I know you don't believe it. Hell, maybe you don't even want to, but you are, and you can make it through this."

Armin looked back at him with those sad blue eyes, brimming with tears. The redness from the crying made the blue even more obvious, and he mentally slapped himself for even noticing that. He was comforting him, not admiring his beauty. Still, he wasn't expecting it when Armin leaned into him for a hug, holding him tightly as though he were some sort of anchor. Jean hugged him back of course, and together they sat there, one boy crying and one boy just doing his best to provide some sort of comfort. He had finally been broken out of his shell of indifference, forced to feel and to care by this one small unassuming little boy. It was a new and bizarre feeling, and honestly it scared the shit out of him, but he had to be here. He had to do it for Armin.

* * *

**And now you have the final piece in my originally meant to be mega-chapter. I realize there are a couple of plot holes, which I will try to explain. First of all, why has Mr. Kirschtein not noticed that his son is gone? Well, he's a very busy man, and sort of a dick. As long as the police don't show up to tell him that Jean is dead/in trouble with the law he doesn't really care what he does. Plus, Jean is an early riser who likes walking so that seems a reasonable possibility for where he is. Second problem, why is Eren's dad not at the hospital? Well we know his mom is dead (she is, I'm like 90% sure I confirmed that but if I didn't then there you have it.) His dad, much like in the real deal, is kind of absent. He travels around, and doesn't particularly care about his children, especially now that his wife died. He visits for like five minutes every day, so he was just not there. Armin's parents aren't there because they aren't family and they feel it might be an intrusion. Anyway, I hope you like it, and as with last time REVIEW because I could cut it off here but if you don't want me to then I could go further and we could get some fluff in here. I have more plotted but I'm just not sure if anyone is interested. Please tell me if you are or are not I need to know. Hope you all liked the chapter, and have an nice day/night!**


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